


The Butterfly Effect

by kerri240879



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Drug Use, M/M, Season 3, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-02 22:30:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 180,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12735603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerri240879/pseuds/kerri240879
Summary: Brian told Justin to get some friends his age – what if the kiss Michael saw was misconstrued? What if miscommunication was only the start of it all? Just how far does the butterfly effect go?Beta'd by the wonderful Kim - aka Predec2 - thanks for everything, hon.





	1. Chapter 1

Title: The Butterfly Effect.

Author: Kerri.

Beta: Kimberly – thank you so much for all of your help, Kim, and for such a warm welcome into a new fandom. You are truly amazing. xx

Fandom: Queer as Folk

Characters: Brian/Justin.  Ethan/OC, the gang

Rating: Mature/NC17

Disclaimer:  All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.  I’m just using them for my perverted sense of fun.

Feedback:  Sure thing!  Feedback is always helpful.

Summary: Brian told Justin to get some friends his age – what if the kiss Michael saw was misconstrued? What if miscommunication was only the start of it all? Just how far does the butterfly effect go?

Story notes: Everything up until the Rage Party happened, but with slight twists; then it no longer follows canon. I always liked Ethan, right up until he cheated. I hate the way he's sometimes portrayed as this one-dimensional, evil shit that broke Brian and Justin up. So, there won't be any character bashing per se…maybe a little Mikey smackdown, but he deserves it at the start of season 3. ;) Enjoy.

 

Prologue.

The flashing lights and the thumpa-thumpa were similar to Babylon; the beautiful boys who twisted to the dark, techno beat were not.  Smooth skin, younger faces, and the tinge of excitement in the air replaced the tumbling glitter and the ghostly specterof Brian Kinney who would glare down from the catwalk as he searched the crowds of Babylon for his next trick.  Emmett hadn’t stepped foot in Boytoy in several years; Babylon was his playground, and the young twinkies who were dancing below didn’t offer up the experience that a man from Babylon would bring to Emmett’s bed.  But he wasn’t here to find a playmate; Alex Wilder had approached him in the diner earlier in the week and asked to speak to him alone. 

The conversation that followed was held in the strictest of confidences, and it left Emmett reeling.  Disbelief had come hard and fast, and had lasted for more than an hour as Alex patiently explained why he was there; there were moments when Emmett still had trouble wrapping his mind around what he was hearing.  Dismay soon replaced disbelief.  And when resignation sank over him like ice water, Emmett had come to the silent realization that Alex was telling him the truth.    

Glancing at the man who stood beside him, Emmett took a sip of his water as Alex’s eyes searched the crowded dance floor.  Powerfully versatile, Alex was known as one of the best fucks on Liberty. He was friendly and well-liked by anyone who met him.  He was also a clinical psychologist, one that specialized in counseling people who suffered from depression.  And when he suddenly reached up and grasped Emmett's jaw in his fingertips, Emmett let him turn his face and followed Alex's outstretched finger with his eyes.  It took a moment for them to adjust to the flashing light, but he soon saw the young man that Alex was pointing towards. 

Justin was dancing between two twinks; his shirt was off, and his eyes were shut as he rolled his hips in time to the pounding music while the young men he danced with ran their hands over his skin.  Emmett blinked slowly and then peered closer.  The two boys Justin was dancing with were blondes; his brow creasing in confusion, Emmett scanned the surrounding area, but couldn't see the young musician that Justin had left Babylon with three months ago.  Turning his gaze back to Justin, Emmett continued to watch as the twink in front of Justin grasped his face and angled Justin's jaw up so they could kiss.  But when Justin turned his face from the intended kiss, the twink pulled Justin’s jaw back towards him and tried again.  That was when Justin pushed him away with two firm hands against the twink's chest.

Emmett saw Justin's face twist in anger before the young blonde's lips formed the snarled words ‘fuck off.'  Turning his back on the boy, Justin grasped the belt loops of the other twink and drew him across the dance floor, where the two of them disappeared into a shadowed alcove. Although it had been years since Emmett had frequented Boytoy, he knew damn well that the alcove was the equivalent of Babylon’s backroom, and he could no longer hide his confusion.  Turning to meet Alex’s steady look, Emmett could only gesture weakly; Alex merely raised his eyebrow and turned to walk down the stairs.

The alcove was darker than the main dance floor, and it took several minutes for Emmett's eyes to adjust as Alex led him deeper into the room.  But when they did, Emmett desperately wished he had remained blinded by the darkness.  It wasn't as if he had never seen Justin in the backroom of Babylon before.  He had seen Justin fuck other guys, and he had seen Justin being fucked by Brian more times than he could count.  But he had never seen anyone but Brian fuck Justin until now. 

Justin's entire presence was blank as the twink moved behind him; his eyes were open, but Emmett wondered if Justin was even aware of what was going on as he braced himself against the wall with his forearms.  Skimming concerned eyes over the blond, Emmett took in the red marks that the twink fucking Justin was leaving on the boy’s slender hips, but it was when he saw that Justin wasn’t even erect that Emmett took a step towards the pair.  He stopped, however, and turned to face Alex when he grasped his arm.

“Is he high?  Does he even know what he’s doing?” Emmett asked with real worry, and Alex raised his eyebrow as he leaned close to Emmett’s ear and murmured a single phrase that spoke volumes.

“Pain management.”

1.

Slowly rolling the piece of cold metal between his fingers, Brian lay under the blue lights of his bed and watched as the smoke ring he had just blown float towards the ceiling. The weed he was smoking was prime, and he enjoyed the soft edge he was feeling as he inhaled the last of the joint before reaching out to drop it in the glass ashtray beside the bed.  Flopping back onto the pillows, he began to roll the thin metal in his fingers once more.  Holding it up to examine it, Brian huffed out a harsh breath as his cell phone began to ring; it had been going off all afternoon, and Brian continued to ignore it as he dropped his hand back down to his chest.

He'd found the gold ring a few weeks after Justin had left the loft; it had fallen off the bedside table at some point and rolled under the edge of the bed.  Brian had spotted it after waking up from a weekend bender on the floor.  The ring had glinted slightly in the morning light, and when he reached out for that glimmer in the dark, the mystery of the missing nipple ring was solved.  It was the only thing of Justin's, other than a single grey sock, that remained in the loft; that, and the ghostly echo of his voice. 

_“_ _So, what the fuck are you still doin' here?”_

_“Would you care if I wasn't?”_

The boy had done more than remove all traces of himself from Brian's loft; Justin had also removed all traces of himself from Liberty Avenue, too.  He hadn't been seen in Woody's or at Babylon for over three months.  The day after the Rage launch, Justin showed up at the diner for his shift.  The boy had done his job in silence, and Deb’s concern for the awkwardness of the situation meant that she had taken the family’s breakfast orderswithout inserting her typical, acerbic comments.  Justin had merely kept his eyes averted and his head down.  Brian had come home from work later that afternoon to an empty loft, and the sight of Justin’s keys sitting mockingly by the answering machine.  Within days of that, Debbie had been ranting that Justin had quit his job mid-shift; he had just walked out, with no explanation.  Brian hadn’t seen or spoken to Justin since.  And he was more than okay with that.

Brian didn't miss Justin at all; not his chatter or his crap spread from one side of the loft to the other.  Not the meals that Brian had gotten so used to eating when he came home from work.  Not the early morning fucks in the shower, or the late-night blowjobs that threatened to take the top of his skull off.  Nope.  Brian didn't miss Justin one iota. No apologies, no regrets.  Brian also realized he was full of shit within twenty-four hours of Justin leaving.  He buried the pain in a marathon session of fucking, drinking, drugs, and work.  Nothing helped.  Not when every time he closed his eyes he saw Justin being kissed by the fiddler in front of all of Babylon.   

Nearly a month had slipped by in a haze of Kinney style pain management when Lindsay tentatively asked Brian if he had seen Justin.  She hadn't spoken to him in a while, and she didn't know where he was staying.  A few days later, Emmett asked him the same question as he waited for a cup of coffee.  It was when Michael mumbled that Justin's email address and phone number weren't working, and he didn't think Justin wanted to work on Rage anymore, that Brian began to realize just how far he had thrown Justin off the cliff.

He had been surprised when he began to put the pieces together; yes, Justin had been thrown off the high Kinney cliff, but the family had taken Brian's side.  Maybe only for the first few days, but Justin had been outright ignored that early morning in the diner, and he had distanced himself accordingly.  No one knew where he was living.  No one knew where he was working.  No one knew anything.  The family had taken Brian's side and shut Justin out, but it had been Justin who had locked the door behind them. 

_“The problem is, you leave your door open, and you never know who's coming in…. or out.”_  
  


Brian swore softly as that barely remembered trick’s voice whispered through the air.  There had been no locks on their door; Brian liked it that way.  Anyone could come in to get fucked.  He’d just never thought that Justin would be the one who would walk out.  And now that there was an iron-clad fucking lock on Justin’s side of the door, Brian had no idea how even to begin to pry it back open.  Jennifer had point blank refused to tell Debbie where Justin was when Debbie finally called her a week after Justin had walked out of Babylon.

Debbie had gotten upset and told Jennifer that she had expected more from Justin, and Jennifer had nearly laughed herself sick.  It was then that Jennifer delivered a few home truths to Debbie; Deb hadn’t told Brian what Jennifer had said after that point, but the shame and grief in Deb’s voice told Brian that whatever Jennifer had said to Debbie had shaken Debbie’s belief in her family to the core.  After that single phone call, Jennifer had swiftly cut them out of her life just like her son had done.

Brian only knew Justin was still in school, because his progress report had been emailed to him a week ago.  But that in and of itself was enough for concern.  Justin’s grades had slipped from straight A’s to B’s and C’s.  His professors talked about the dark tones of Justin's work, and the expectation that he had to lift his grades up next semester.  Otherwise, he would have to rethink his position at school.  There were plenty of other students wanting a place at PIFA who wouldn’t let their grades slip.  The professors expected more from him.

Brian sighed as he wondered just what Justin’s expectations for himself were.  Everyone had spoken about what they had expected from Justin; Michael had expected him to work on Rage.  Deb had expected him to be his sun-shiny self at the diner, despite what had occurred between Justin and Brian less than ten hours earlier.  Lindsay still expected Justin to babysit Gus at a moment’s notice.  The professors expected Justin to maintain an “A” grade average, even with the problems he had with his hand.  And Brian… Brian huffed out a bitter chuckle.  He had expected the most from Justin.  It was no wonder the boy had walked away without a backward glance.  

Brian broke out of his musings when the buzzer alerted him to the fact that someone wanted to talk to him.  He didn’t want to talk to Lindsay or Michael.  Lindsay alternated between cloying sympathy and bewilderment as to why he wasn’t opening up to her about the wayward youth.  And Michael alternated between anger at Justin walking away from them all, and some unidentified emotion that Brian was beginning to suspect was guilt.  Why Michael was feeling guilty was almost beyond Brian’s capacity to care at that point, but it continued to niggle at him.

The buzzer to the loft sounded again in a sharp reverberation, tearing Brian out of the comfort of his haze.  When it seemed as if someone was leaning on the button, Brian dragged himself up off the bed and crossed the loft with angry strides.  Hitting the reply button, Brian fairly bit the words out between clenched teeth.

“What the  _fuck_  do you want?”   

“Brian, it's Emmett.  Can I please come up?”

Brian's brows creased as he stared at the intercom in surprise; he could count on one hand with his fist clenched the number of times Emmett had come to his home alone and was curious enough to let the man in without comment.  Emmett had been relatively quiet over the last week or so; his usual flamboyance had dimmed alarmingly to the point that Michael had asked Emmett if he was having a ‘ _seeing the light_ ’ moment again.  Emmett had grimaced before shaking his head and leaving the diner without a word.  Pulling the door open an inch, Brian crossed the loft to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water.

He heard the loft door slide back as he opened the bottle and took a deep swallow, silence lingering in the air.  Glancing towards the door, Brian paused with the bottle partway to his mouth.  Emmett stood in the doorway; he was twisting his hands nervously in front of him and looked like he was going to be physically sick.  Emotions aside, Brian knew he wasn't going to like whatever Emmett said merely from the way Emmett had dressed for the visit; he had never seen the nelly queen dressed down like this before.  Everyday jeans and a dark coat, Emmett looked as if he had had his flame permanently snuffed out.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Brian asked, and Emmett grimaced before wrenching his hands apart and hiding them behind his back.

“We’re friends, aren't we, Brian?" Emmett asked, and when Brian rolled his eyes, Emmett held up his hand.

The fact that Emmett’s hand was shaking like a leaf spoke volumes, and Brian bit back the nasty comment that had formed on his lips without uttering a word.

“I  _need_  to ask you that, Brian.  I need to know that we’re friends; I want to know that  _you_  know I would never deliberately try to hurt you.  Not in any way.  You  _do_  know that, don’t you?” Emmett pleaded, and Brian swallowed as Emmett took a couple of steps towards him.

It was when Brian gave a tiny nod of his head that Emmett spoke again.

“Then I want you to come with me…right now.”

Brian’s face twisted slightly, and Emmett took a couple more steps towards him and held up his hands to silence Brian before he could speak.

“I would never hurt you, Brian; I might not like how you handle things sometimes, but I would never deliberately hurt you.  I’m not that cruel.”

 _‘I’m not like you’_  hung unspoken in the air, and Brian scowled as he turned towards his bedroom to get his boots on, while ignoring the shaky breath he heard Emmett let out.  A few minutes later, Brian led Emmett out of the loft and downstairs towards his jeep before Emmett spoke again. 

“We aren’t taking your jeep, Brian; it’s too well known.”

Biting his tongue against the sharp retort that wanted to slip free, Brian just rolled his eyes and followed Emmett towards a nondescript silver sedan that had been parked on the side of the road. Sliding behind the wheel of the car, Emmett looked at Brian for a long moment before he sighed, and without a word, he put the car into gear and pulled out into the flow of traffic.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

The neighborhood was pretty; lined with trees and bustling with weekend pedestrians heading to the manicured park that bordered the street close to where Emmett had parked.  Brian glanced at Emmett who seemed to be fixating on the white weatherboard house with the blue trim; Emmett had maintained his silence during the fifteen-minute drive, but when he shifted in his seat and looked at Brian, it seemed as if he was regretting asking Brian to come with him.  Finally, he swallowed and gestured towards the house in question.

“So I was sitting in the diner, minding my own business, when Alex Wilder asked me if we could get a cup of coffee," he began slowly and then turned back to stare at the house, oblivious to how still Brian had become when he heard the name.  “I agreed, because who doesn’t like Alex?” Emmett continued.  “I figured that he wanted to have a bit of a gossip, but then he began to tell me this story about this guy he was seeing.  I couldn't figure out why he was telling me this until he told me that he was more than just an ass in the backroom.  He's a clinical psychologist; he helps people who suffer from depression.  Did you know that about him, Brian?”

Brian nodded his head slowly as Emmett continued to look at the house in question.

"He sees his patients in this swanky office, not all that far from where you work, to be honest.  He charges them a fortune.  But he also sees patients in the hospital.  And sometimes… just sometimes, he sees them in the privacy of his own home when they can't afford the fee, or when their insurance doesn't cover them for multiple sessions.  When the case is close to his heart… he opens up his home to these people.  He said he’d only done it a couple of times in the past.  And he’s doing it again now.”

Emmett finally turned in his seat and looked at Brian.  Licking his lips, Emmett silently gestured to the park they were beside.  Turning his head, Brian blanched when he saw who was sitting at a table not twenty meters away.  Ethan was wrapped up in a thick coat, and he was blowing into his cupped hands as he hunched his shoulders against the brisk wind that was stirring the leaves on the ground. Whipping back to face Emmett, Brian opened his mouth to speak, only to have Emmett reach out and lay a gentle hand on his knee.

“Remember when I said I would never  _deliberately_  hurt you?” Emmett urged, and gestured once more towards the park.

Glaring at the other man for a minute, Brian turned back towards the park.  And as he stared at Ethan, Brian watched as another young brunet walked over to where Ethan was sitting.  The two boys talked for a minute, but as Brian stared at Ethan, the newcomer stepped between Ethan's knees and bent his head to kiss Ethan's upturned lips.  Brian felt Emmett's hand come up to rest on his shoulder as Brian stared at the scene before him, observing Ethan wrap his arms around the other boy and kiss him again.  That gentle kiss forced Brian to look away from the pair, and he glared at Emmett with a sneer on his face.

“So much for Justin’s grand  _romance_ with his one true love.  It looks like the fiddler is fiddling someone else," he spat, but Emmett shook his head slowly.

"Brian… I don't know what happened to you and Justin.  I don't want to know.  It's none of my business.  But Ethan isn't cheating on Justin; that boy with Ethan?  His name is Sam.  He’s a musician at PIFA.   And they’ve been dating for nearly twelve months.”

Brian shook his head in disbelief as he turned back to look at Ethan and Sam. The two boys sat on top of the table, huddled together against the cold and whispering.  Brian swallowed against nausea that was rolling like a wave in his stomach when Sam reached up to grasp the back of Ethan’s neck as Ethan lowered his head dejectedly into his hands.  Turning in his seat again, Brian could only stare at Emmett as the other man continued to speak quietly.   

“They live together.  They do go to school with Justin, but the great romance you're talking about?  It doesn't exist.  It never did.  I don't know who told you differently, but they were wrong.  So wrong that… Jesus, Brian…"

Visibly upset, Emmett broke off and shook his head as he looked back towards the white house again.  Brian looked back towards Ethan, only to see that Ethan and Sam had left the table and were walking down towards the white house hand-in-hand.  When they got to the house, Ethan leaned against the railing of the steps and wrapped his arms around Sam.  They had only been standing there a minute when the front door opened and Brian saw Dr. Alex Wilder look out at the two boys.  And when Alex pulled the door fully open as Ethan and Sam broke apart, Brian finally saw why Emmett had brought him here as his breath escaped his body in a pained rush of air.

"His hair's longer," was all he could manage, and Emmett nodded as Brian laid eyes on the slim boy who was standing in Alex’s doorway.

Even with the distance, Brian could see that Justin had lost considerable weight; his face was void of all color, and he seemed to sway slightly on his feet as Ethan hurried up the steps to meet him.  Justin's arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, and when Ethan reached up and cupped Justin's face in the palms of his hands, Brian could see the flinch that caused Justin to visibly twitch before Ethan pulled the blonde into his arms and held him tightly.   Alex was speaking to Sam, who was nodding as Ethan tucked Justin’s face into the crook of his neck and ran his hand over the back of Justin’s bowed head. 

But when Alex ran his hand down the center of Justin's back, Justin lifted his head from Ethan's shoulder and took a few steps out of Alex's reach.  The two briefly spoke before Alex reached back into the opened house and brought out the thick silvery jacket that Justin wore.   Ethan reached for the jacket and helped Justin into it before he zipped the coat up for him.  The jacket zipped, Ethan wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders and slowly guided him down the steps and towards the shit heap of a car that was parked by front of Alex’s house.  Unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of Justin being guided gently into the back seat of the car, Brian almost missed it when Emmett began to speak again.

“Brian…  Alex is called to the hospital when people are…sick.  He assesses them and helps the medical staff to decide each case.  Sometimes Alex suggests medication.  Sometimes he suggests therapy.  Sometimes he suggests that the person is…Uhh… hospitalized for a little while.  Just until they feel better."   

Brian was unable to tear his eyes away from the car Justin was sitting in.  Ethan was sitting in the backseat beside Justin.  From what Brian could see, he was holding Justin in his arms as Sam slipped into the driver's seat and started the car.  Brian continued to stare at the vehicle, willing Justin to lift his head from Ethan's shoulder as it drove past them and turned the corner.  After it disappeared, Brian finally turned back to look at Emmett.

“What are you saying, Em?” he asked finally, and Emmett sighed.

"Brian," Emmett said as he reached out to hold Brian's hand.  "Justin was in the hospital.  He's been seeing Alex three times a week, every week, for nearly three months.”  

Brian shook his head in confusion.

“I’m down as Justin’s POA.  They would have called me,” he said, and Emmett shrugged.

“I don’t know what to say, Brian.  I can only tell you what Alex told me, which isn’t very much.”

Emmett squinted as he looked out the window for a moment before he finally looked back at Brian.

“Brian… Alex was called in because Ethan came home from school a few days after the Rage party and he found Justin in the bathtub.  He was nonresponsive, so Ethan called an ambulance.  Justin was taken to the hospital, and ended up having his stomach pumped.  He was assessed by Alex and a full medical team.”

“So he OD’d?” Brian asked, and Emmett shook his head slightly.

“Maybe we could call it that if Justin had been at a club, and had taken a bad hit of E,” he said softly.  “Maybe if Alex hadn't diagnosed Justin as suffering from clinical depression.  Brian, I'm sorry, but Alex said that Justin didn’t OD; they think he tried to kill himself.” 


	2. 2

Alex Wilder sat down at his kitchen table with a cup of strong coffee and his notes from his latest session with Justin spread out before him.  Justin's voice whispered through the brightly lit space, and Alex licked his lips as he picked up the audio recorder and pressed pause again so that he could make a note of specific phrases that Justin had used while speaking to him during their regular Sunday sessions.

“ _Why do I have to talk about my feelings so much, Alex?”_

_“Because you have formed the habit of burying those feeling, Justin, which is why we are here.  You know this.  We have discussed this until we are both blue in the face.”_

_“It wasn’t a suicide attempt, Alex.  It wasn’t a cry for help; I’m **not** some sissy little faggot.  I’ve told you repeatedly – I was tired.  I just wanted to sleep.”_

_“So you keep saying, Justin.  There is no shame, however, in needing to talk to someone.”_

_“To borrow your favorite phrase, Alex, you can talk until you're blue in the face.  Unless the other person is willing to listen, unless they are willing to **hear** what you are saying, what’s the point?” _

_“I **am** willing to listen, Justin.  That **is** the point.  I’m willing.  So are Ethan and Sam.  Daphne and your mother.  That’s why we have group sessions on Thursdays.  We are all willing to listen to whatever you have to say.  But you **have** to be the one who is willing to start talking.” _

Alex pressed pause on the recording and made fresh notes in Justin’s file.  Taking a quick mouthful of coffee, Alex sat back in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose.  The kid was nineteen years old, and he had so much pain and self-loathing inside of himself that Alex was surprised that Justin hadn’t cracked sooner.  There was no doubt in his mind that Justin had regressed; Justin was showing several of the symptoms he had portrayed after the bashing.  Nightmares, an unwillingness to be around people, and his aversion to being touched during and after his therapy sessions were front and center. 

Justin’s version of pain management had evolved into fucking and being fucked, even though he got no pleasure out of it – it almost seemed as if the boy was punishing himself, especially when he referred to himself as a piece of blonde boy ass whenever Alex brought up Justin’s tricking.  His unwillingness to be in therapy at all was the most challenging thing to overcome.  It didn’t help that he was an exceptionally smart little fucker, either.  Taking another sip of coffee, Alex resumed listening to the recorded session.

_“So you went to Boytoy last night; how was that?”_

_“It was all right.  I danced.”_

_“Did you do any drugs?”_

_"No.  And I didn't drink, either; you said I couldn't drink while taking the little pills that are meant to make me shit rainbows and glitter."_

_“You’re taking antidepressants, Justin, because you are depressed.  They aren’t meant to make you feel like a failure.  They are meant to make the day-to-day easier for you.  We’ve spoken about this.”_

_“I fucking hate them.”_

_“Why do you hate them, Justin?”_

_“Taking them makes me feel weak.”_

_“Justin… you aren’t…”_

_“Yeah, I know.  I’m not weak.  Moving **on**.”_

_“So, you never said if you enjoyed dancing.”_

The creak of leather sounded, and Alex recalled that Justin had shifted his weight on the couch before finally speaking.

_"I was in what should have been my element; a pulsing beat.  Beautiful guys.  And all it showed me was that I was surrounded by people, Alex, and I have never felt more alone in my life.”_

Alex pressed pause on the tape again and sat back while blowing out a harsh breath.  His sessions with Justin had taken on a pattern of sorts; Tuesday’s meeting was often filled with slight tendrils of hope as a new week opened up to the boy.  Thursday’s session was quite often the most draining for Justin, because he had to explain himself to members of his family and friends.  And Sunday’s meeting was almost always Justin’s lowest point, especially if the boy had tricked the night before. Justin swung between aggression and despondency, and quite often shut down entirely mid-session.  Alex sighed again.  No, Sundays were his least favorite day with Justin; those were the days he feared he was still losing the boy.

_“Did you meet anyone last night?”_

_“Call it what it is, Alex; did I **fuck** anyone last night?”_

_“Well, did you?”_

_“You know damn well I did; you had babysitting duty after all.”_

_“Is that what you call this, Justin?  Babysitting?”_

_“I fucked two different guys and was fucked by someone else.  What else do you want to know?”_

_“Why did you change the subject, Justin?”_

_“….”_

_“Justin?  Answer me.”_

_“Because I don’t get why you’re pretending to care.”_

Alex pressed pause on the tape and sat back to finish his coffee.  The sun had shifted in the sky by the time he finished transcribing Justin’s session onto his laptop.  It was only when he had finished with their last session that Alex opened up Justin’s file on his computer, listening to some of their earlier meetings as the sound of the boy’s pain bled through his words.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Thank you for meeting me alone this first time.  How long have you and Justin known each other for, Daphne?”_

_“Sixteen years.  We were three when we met each other, and we’ve been best friends ever since.”_

_“So you know Justin well, then?”_

_“There is no one that I know better, or who knows me better than Justin.”_

_“Does Justin trust you, Daphne?”_

_“Yes, as much as he is capable of trusting anyone right now.”_

_“What do you mean by that?”_

_“In Justin’s eyes, you are forcing him to expose himself to the people in his life.  I know that this is an essential part of his treatment, and that he needs to know that we all love him regardless of what comes out of his mouth.  But you are still forcing him to open himself up to people when it is the last thing he wants to do.”_

_“Why do you say that, Daphne?”_

_“Because the last time he opened up, the last time he showed the people he loved who he really was, he was kicked out of the family home.  On some level, I think Justin probably regrets coming out, because his entire life changed in an instant.  He went from a semi-stable home life to being fucked in public by a guy who was constantly showing him that he wasn’t good enough.”_

_“That… that is quite profound, Daphne.”_

_“I was second in high school when it came to the top position for grades. I scored 1485 on my SATs.  I’m in my first year of medical school.  The only person who continually beat me for top marks was Justin, who scored 1500 on **his** SATs.  And that is something you need to understand, Alex.  Justin isn’t stupid; he might be in considerable pain, and he might be confused about what is real versus what is in his own mind, but he **isn’t** stupid.  So, don’t make the mistake of thinking that he is.  My friend was accepted into five of the top colleges in the country.  He could have been whatever he wanted in life; instead, he met Brian fucking Kinney.”_

_“So, you blame Brian?”_

_“You know, Alex, I was there that night.”_

_“What night?”_

_“Prom.  I was Justin’s date.  So, I saw Brian come in.  I watched them dance, and I watched Brian kiss Justin in front of all those people.  I saw Brian show Justin that he cared about him, that he wanted a future with him, and I saw Justin light up in a way that he had never done before.  He **finally** had the man he was in love with, and he was **happy**.  It had made the shit of the last year with his family worthwhile.  Ten minutes later, Justin was on the ground with his skull bashed in, and Brian locked the man he had shown Justin away.  As bad as it sounds, Alex, I’m glad that Justin can’t remember Prom.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because it would break Justin’s heart, and it would only reinforce that he wasn’t enough for Brian.”_

_“What are you hoping that Justin gets out of therapy, Daphne?”_

_“His fucking pride back.  His sense of self.  After the bashing, he became a pod person; someone that neither of us recognized anymore.  And the tighter he held onto Brian for support, support that he desperately needed, the more Brian was able to hurt Justin.  I can’t tell you how many times Justin would walk into the loft, the one place he **should** have felt safe, and found his **boyfriend** fucking some other guy.”_

_“You have a real issue with Brian right now, don’t you, Daphne?”_

_“If what you are saying is true, and I’m not saying that **you** are right, either, but if what you are saying **is** true, then my best friend tried to kill himself, Alex.  Damn straight I have an issue with Brian Kinney.”    _

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Are you still having nightmares, Justin?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Have you written them down?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Justin…are you all right?”_

_“No.”_

_“Do you want…”_

_“No.”_

_“You need to…”_

_“No.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“How do you feel having your mom sit in on this session, Justin?”_

_“Don’t care.  You said I had to do this, so…whatever.”_

_“And you, Jennifer? How do you feel about joining Justin?”_

_“I’m pleased that I have re-earned some of my son’s trust.  He sees this as something that he has to do, but he could have shut me out and just had his friends in here.”_

_“Why do you have to re-earn Justin’s trust?”_

_“Because I didn’t handle learning that he was gay in a good way; I dragged him into therapy that he didn’t want.  I didn’t listen when he asked me not to tell his father.  I didn’t handle the fact that he was bashed well either, and it caused a lot of unnecessary grief for Justin that could have been avoided.  It doesn’t matter how many Prides I walk in with Justin – I feel that if I had just handled the start of all of this better, then maybe Justin wouldn’t be hurting like he is now.”_

_“Have you spoken to Justin about this?  Any of this?”_

_“No, I haven’t.  By the time I was willing to listen, Justin was no longer willing to talk.”_

_“So you love your son, Jennifer?”_

_“I more than love my son, Doctor.  I am willing to do whatever it takes to help Justin, in any way.”_

_“Do you know this, Justin?”_

_“Can we take a break now?”_

_“Justin, you can’t avoid talking about the things that cause you pain forever.”_

_“Sure I can.”_

_“Justin…”_

_“How’s Molly doing, Mom?  Is she still enjoying her dance lessons?”_

_“Justin…”_

_“Is Dad still paying for those lessons?  How about her tennis lessons?  Her swimming lessons? **Her fucking education?** ”_

_“…”_

_“I think we’ll take a break now; Jennifer, can I interest you in some tea?”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Tell me about the problems with your hand, Justin.”_

_“What’s there to talk about?  You know what happened.  I don’t need to tell you about it.”_

_“I’d rather hear it from your mouth, Justin, than rely on the public record.”_

_“I don’t want to talk about it.  I’d rather forget it ever happened.”_

_“How can you forget about it, Justin, when it is shaping the person you are becoming?”_

_“Because I **have** to forget about it – they said I have to get over it.”_

_“Justin…did you ever talk to anyone about the bashing?  About how it made you feel?”_

_“ **No one** would talk to me about it; I’m over it…I don’t want to rehash it.”_

_“Justin, you aren’t over it.”_

_“I said no! Fuck this shit; I’m out of here.”_

_“Justin, wait!”_

_“Just leave me alone!”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

 

_“Tell me about Ethan.”_

_“Ethan’s been great; when I first met him, he came across as this condescending little shit.  He was so fucking cocky. **He** had told me to get some friends my own age, so I gave Ethan a second chance.  We began to talk more often, and we got to know each other better.  And through Ethan, I met Sam, and it sort of snowballed from there.”_

_“So would you call him your friend?”_

_“…..”_

_“Justin?”_

_“How do you decipher friendship?  You don’t fuck your friends, but I’ve fucked Daph, and I’ve fucked Ethan, and he’s fucked me.  It was once we got that out of the way that we clicked, you know?  He understands the passion and drive I have for my art; he understands that there are days where my art can tear me open as I am trying to put it down on paper or canvas; it’s on those days that he just holds me after I surface and can’t find steady footing.  He knows the pressure I am under at school, and how much harder I have to work because of my hand.”_

_“So, he supports you?”_

_“Yeah, he does.  He lets me get lost in my art; he’s always so fucking patient when I forget to meet up with him and Sam for lunch or coffee.  Instead of getting pissed at me, he drags Sam across campus to find me, and that’s when he will remind me to eat or to take a break.  But then I’ve done that for him when he’s practicing, and he loses track of time.”_

_“Practicing?”_

_“Yeah, he plays the violin.  He’s got such talent for it; I’ve told him that there is only some of his music I can listen to without hunching my shoulders.  I thought he’d be insulted, but he just laughed and told me that there was like… only a third of my art that he had looked at that he understood.  The rest was lost on him; he got the feeling I was trying to portray, and that when he looked at my art lately, it hurt him.  He said that you would have to be blind not to see how depressed I was when the art I have been producing since high school screamed pain.  I told him he was a drama queen.”_

_“So you care for Ethan?”_

_“Yeah.  Ethan gave me a soft place to land after I… after.”_

_“After what, Justin?”_

_“Can we take a break?”_

_“Why do you avoid talking about Brian and everything to do with your relationship…Justin, where are you going?”_

_“I told you when we started this, Alex.  I don’t want to talk about **him**.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Justin, you have said several times now that you didn’t try to kill yourself.”_

_“And I didn’t.”_

_“Justin, you swallowed a handful of sleeping tablets and a half a bottle of Beam.”_

_“I know that.”_

_“And you also know that you stopped breathing while Ethan was waiting for the ambulance.”_

_“I know that, too.  Ethan had to perform CPR until help arrived; I’ve apologized to him for that.  For all of this.”_

_“And what did Ethan say?”_

_“He said I could jam my apologies up my ass, and that if I ever did anything like this again, he’d kill me himself.”_

_“What did you say to that statement?”_

_“I told him that when he was over his queen out to give you a call.”_

_“He did call me, Justin.”_

_“Yeah, I know.”_

_“So if it wasn’t a suicide attempt, Justin, what was it?”_

_“I hadn’t slept for over a week, Alex.  I was desperate… I’d left **him** , and had the people I thought were my friends turn their backs on me.  And that was ok, you know?  They were his friends first.  But I lost my home, my lover, my friends, and my job all in a matter of a few days.  I couldn’t take enough drugs or drink enough to pass out.  I wasn’t trying to die, Alex, you **have** to believe me.  I just wanted everything to **stop**.  Just for a minute.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Thank you for coming in today, Ethan.  Can you tell me a little bit about how you and Justin met?”_

_“We met at a recital I was doing at PIFA.  He’d been given the tickets for his birthday.  I watched him draw during the recital; that, and the fact that he’s fucking gorgeous was enough to distract me.  I told him as much when he approached me afterward.”_

_“How’d he take your compliment?”_

_“ **Not** as a compliment.  I had to backtrack pretty quickly, but I could tell he thought I was an idiot.  I assumed that would be the last I ever saw of him.”_

_“But it wasn’t?”_

_“No.  I saw Justin all the time after that on campus.  It surprised the hell out of me when I approached him one day and asked if I could join him for coffee and he agreed.  Sam met up with us halfway through, and that was when I saw Justin relax for the first time in my company.  I guess knowing that I had a boyfriend meant that he could relax around us without wondering if we were trying to get into his pants.”_

_“So you found him attractive.”_

_“Doc, I could be half dead, and I’d still think he was gorgeous.”_

_“So looks are important to you?”_

_“I never said that – don’t put words in my mouth.  When I say that Justin is gorgeous, I don’t just mean his face.  I mean him as a **person** ; Justin can be quite the brat, and he can queen out with the best of them.  But when it comes down to it, he is incredibly loyal and kind and so freaking talented that it’s not funny.  He has got the biggest heart and so much love to give.  I feel incredibly privileged that I can say I am one of only a few that he calls a friend.”_

_“How did you feel about Justin ending up in the hospital?”_

_“I’ve known that I was going to play the violin since before I could even pronounce it correctly.  I was declared a musical genius while I was still a child.  I have wanted to play the violin all my life, and at one point in my life, I would have said that I would rather die than ever lose this fantastic gift that I have been blessed with.  When I was sixteen, I broke my shoulder and was unable to play for several months; the pain I was in was indescribable, Alex.  Even lifting my hand was causing me to vomit._

_“But finding Justin in the bathroom at my place the way I did?  Nothing compared to **that** pain.  Seeing Justin strapped down on a bed in the psychiatric ward made **that** pain seem like a mild niggle.  Hearing him call for the **fucker** while he was still drifting in and out of consciousness made **that** pain feel like a little splinter.  And watching someone who I have come to love suffer the way he is **now**?  I would give up the violin **and** my talent if it meant that Justin was happy again.  If it meant that he could just breathe easy.”_

_“He’s fortunate to have you as a friend, Ethan.”_

_“No, Alex, that’s where you’re wrong. **I’m** the lucky one.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Do you still spend the night occasionally with Ethan and Sam?”_

_“Maybe once in a while.  Mainly after Daph’s been here with me on a Thursday; those days are hard for us, because we have to be honest with each other.”_

_“Why then?”_

_“Daph and I are living together, so when we tear each other open while we’re here, we need that break from each other.  I thought you knew that.”_

_“Why not move back in with your mom?”_

_“Yeah, right.  And have her micromanage my life for me?  I don’t think so.”_

_“How’s the new job going?”_

_“Really good, actually.  The money is decent, and the hours suit me.”_

_“And how’s school?”_

_“I’m going to have to drop out.  I can’t afford the tuition, and my father won’t pay for it.”_

_“I thought you and… **he** had an agreement.”_

_“I don’t want anything from him, Alex.  Most of the fags on Liberty already think I’m his kept boy; I had a hard enough time being called his whore when we were together.  I’m sure as shit not letting him pay my tuition now that we’re not fucking anymore.”_

_“What about scholarships?”_

_“Ethan and Sam are looking into that with me.  I should hear back soon.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“You said in our last session that you felt interchangeable.  What did you mean by that?”_

_“I dunno.”_

_“Yes, you do, because otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought it up, Justin.  I have told you too many times to count that anything you say in here stays here.  I’m not here to judge you.  Why do you feel interchangeable?”_

_“….from the time I came out as gay, I’ve never really felt…. welcome.  I got kicked out of home.  My father didn’t want me.  My mother didn’t want to **deal** with me.  My friends all took a step away from me at school.  Daphne was the only one who stuck by me.  And when the world opened up for me, the people in that new world didn’t want me, either.  Oh…they did, they wanted to **fuck** me.  But they didn’t want **me**.”_

_“Debbie let you live with her; she wanted you.”_

_“Debbie took me in because **he** didn’t want me living with him anymore.  Debbie let me live there, because my mother paid her to deal with me.  If there hadn’t been money changing hands, I wouldn’t have had that place to stay, either.”_

_“You lived with Br…. **him** again after you were bashed.”_

_“He only took me in because **he** felt guilty; he continued to let me live there because I was a piece of blond boy ass on tap.”_

_“Justin, the man paid for your education; surely you know that you meant more to him than a convenient fuck.”_

_“Did I?”_

_“Is that how you really feel, Justin?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin?”_

_“Do you know how hard it is to love someone, Alex, and know that you aren’ t enough for them?  You can be fucked upwards of a half a dozen times a day, you can drop to your knees whenever they want their cock sucked without a single word of complaint, and they **still** feel the need to stick their dick in someone else.  If that doesn’t tell you that you aren’t enough for them, then I don’t know what does.”_

_“Is that why you left him?”_

_“I was no longer making him happy, and he couldn’t hide how much he didn’t want me anymore.  I’d come home from school or work and find wet cum stains on the sheets that he expected me to sleep on.  They were never on his side of the bed… they were **always** on mine.  The unmistakable stench of sex in the air, and he’d… it got to the point that I would lie on my stomach rather than look at him; rather than see the unmistakable look on his face….  _

_“I told him I didn’t expect him to change.  I just didn’t want it in my face.  But every time I turned around there was some other fucker in our bed.  In the bed he shared with **me**.  It was his way of reminding me that it was **his** home – not **our** home.  Not **my** home.  There were no fucking locks on our door, and if I didn’t like it, too fucking bad.  Then I met Ethan.  And **everything** changed.”_

_“How did things change, Justin?”_

_“That’s the thing, Alex; I don’t **know**.  We had these stupid fucking rules, right?  Home by three, no names and numbers, no repeats, and no kissing on the mouth.  I broke the kissing one once by mistake; I’d fucked this virgin, and I felt guilty because I knew I was hurting him.  I knew what it was like to be fucked by someone with just this brushing of lips over my shoulder before they pushed in, and I didn’t want this kid to feel so used.  So I kissed him; it meant nothing to me, but I knew **he** was angry with me over it.”_

_“And Ethan?”_

_“I wanted to fuck Ethan from the start; God, he was so fucking cocky, and the attraction was there, you know?  But he had a boyfriend, and when I met Sam the attraction for him was instantaneous.  We all knew we wanted each other, but you don’t fuck your friends; the attraction kept simmering, and then one night it just boiled over.  I went to listen to Ethan play his violin, and Sam and I were sitting there side-by-side, and Sam told me very quietly that he and Ethan had talked about it openly and honestly, and why the fuck not?  I fucked Sam that night, and Ethan fucked me. Over the following days, I fucked Ethan, and Sam fucked me.  I blurred the lines in doing that, but I stuck to the rules – it was once and once only.”_

_“Did you kiss either of them?”_

_“We kiss all the time; I kiss them hello, and I kiss them good-bye.  I didn’t think that would matter because **he** always kisses **his** best friend the same way.  Ethan has kissed me like a lover would once, and that was when he kissed me at the Rage party when he could see how upset I was.”_

_“Why were you upset?”_

_“Because I had asked **him** to tell me if he cared whether I was with him or not.  He told me he didn’t care.  He knew that I loved him, and he didn’t feel the same way.  He can’t help that, and I know that I can’t blame him for how he **doesn’t** feel.  It doesn’t mean that it didn’t feel like he had ripped my fucking heart out of my chest.  I just couldn’t settle for what he **could** give me any more.”_

_“And what could he give you, Justin?”_

_“His money.  His loft.  His cock.  Nothing else.  Not his love.  Not even his friendship in the end.  Not his respect.”_

_“What else did you want from him?”_

_“You know, for my birthday this year, he got me a hustler.  His best friend told me that Bri… **he** didn’t do romance.  Flowers and hetro bullshit.  After Rage, Ethan asked me what had I wanted **most** for my birthday.”_

_“And what did you want, Justin?”_

_“Peace.  Just a quiet day for the two of us, where we watched TV and ordered dinner in.  Spent the day fucking.  Maybe smoked some choice pot.  I didn’t want nor do I need **flowers** ; my allergies give me enough problems without adding fucking pollen to the mix.  His idea of what he **thinks** romance is, is so far from mine that it isn’t funny.  Like, he doesn’t celebrate birthdays, only achievements.  But wasn’t the fact that I survived to even **see** another birthday an achievement in and of itself?”_

_“Of **course** it is, Justin.  It was a miracle that you survived not only the bashing, but the fact that your attacker got off with just a slap on the wrist.”_

_“I don’t want to talk about that.  I just don’t want to talk anymore…can we take a break?”_

_“Justin, you are making real progress today…”_

_“Please, Alex.”_

_“Alright, Kiddo.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Is it normal for a nineteen-year-old to not get an erection when being fucked?”_

_“What do you mean, Justin?”_

_“I get hard when I’m fucking other guys.  But when it’s me being fucked, I lose it completely.”_

_“When was the last time you got an erection while having sex?”_

_“When I was fucked by Sam.”_

_“Did he hurt you in any way?”_

_“No, not at all.  It was fun, you know?  I enjoyed my time with him and Ethan.”_

_“What happened afterward?”_

_“I went home… I mean, I went back to where I had been living. **He** was there.”_

_“What happened then?”_

_“He wanted me… I wanted to take a shower because I could smell Sam all over me.  I know how much I used to hate it when he would come home smelling like another guy and fuck me anyway.”_

_“What happened after your shower, Justin?”_

_“I never got to the shower….oh, God.”_

_“Justin…Justin!  Breathe, just breathe.  This is a panic attack, breathe with me now.  That’s right, in and out.  Slowly….slowly…”_

_“Alex… don’t touch me!”_

_“Calm down, Justin, just breathe…”_

_“Don’t touch me… don’t… I need a shower… Oh God, I need a shower…”_

_“Justin, calm down… why do you need a shower?”_

_“I stink… I… fuck, Alex, just let me go… I want to go home…”_

Alex closed Justin’s file and sank back into his seat with a sigh.  There were days where Justin opened up to him, and the feelings he had bottled up inside came pouring out like poison.  But then there were the days where the boy could barely bring himself to lift his gaze from the floor; those were the days that haunted Alex.  It was on those days, on days like today, when Alex was left wondering…was he even helping Justin, or was he just delaying the inevitable?


	3. Chapter 3

****

3.

Justin sat on the stool in front of the canvas; it had been stretched and prepped and was waiting on the large trestle table that his professor had said he could use.  He found it easier to paint while the canvas was flat, rather than upright on an easel.  Glancing down at his notes, Justin tapped his pencil on his thigh; he was beginning to hate painting, and he wondered not for the first time why he was taking the class when it was computer animation that he wanted to pursue.  But then Justin scowled – Alex had said he had to be one hundred percent honest now; he took the painting class because Lindsay had convinced him to.

“Fucking Lindsay,” he mumbled.  He tossed his pencil onto the table with a flick of his wrist that he immediately regretted as pain shot across the palm of his hand and turned it into a claw.

Justin yelped and immediately tried to stretch his fingers out as the cramp rendered his hand useless.  Tears flooded his eyes and were ruthlessly blinked back as Justin pushed his thumb into the palm of his hand.  Barely able to breathe through the agony, Justin closed his eyes and willed his body to stop betraying him.  He was concentrating on not vomiting when warm hands grasped his hand and uncurled his fingers.  It was only the fact that he knew the hands touching him that kept him where he stood and didn’t send him careening across the room like a mental patient.

Opening his eyes slowly, Justin stared into Ethan’s concerned face and managed a grimace of a smile.

“I’m fucking pathetic, right?” he said flatly, and Ethan squeezed his hand gently.

“A true basket case,” Ethan said finally, and Justin felt a flood of love for the dark-haired boy in front of him when Ethan didn’t ask him if he was alright; he was getting really sick and tired of people asking him that.

“So, what are you doing here this late?” Ethan asked.  “I thought you said that you only had the studio until four today?  It’s close to seven PM, Justin.”

Justin gestured to the blank canvas helplessly, and Ethan scowled at it as if it had offended his sensibilities.

“What’s the subject?” Ethan asked as he carefully flexed Justin’s fingers one at a time, and Justin couldn’t bite back the pained squeak that escaped his lips as the cramp gave his hand one final vicious squeeze before subsiding.

Ethan shot him an apologetic look, to which Justin let his lips curve slightly in silent response before he glanced down at his notebook again.

“A painting about love,” he said finally as he tossed his notebook onto the table.  “I’m meant to paint about something that I love.”

For a long minute, Ethan stared at Justin before he drew a deep breath through his nose and stood with his shoulders back.

“You love a lot of things, Justin. You love creating art, even when it causes you to hurt like this.  You love your mom and sister.  Daph.  Sam and me.  You love to dance, and you love to walk through the park when the leaves are turning.”

Justin shrugged, and then glanced at Ethan.

“ _Romantic_ love, Ethan.  I have to paint what I believe is romance and love.”

“Oh, fuck that!” Ethan spat, and Justin snorted.  “What if you’ve never been in love?  What do you do then?” Ethan asked as Justin pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.

The silence grew thick in the room, and when Justin spoke, it was so quiet that Ethan had to lean forward to hear him.

“I have been in love, Ethan.  What the fuck do I paint though?  A line of tricks that never ends?  Doors without locks on them?  A date at the fucking baths?  What would I know about love?”

Ethan’s shoulders sagged, and he stepped closer to Justin.  Cupping Justin’s face gently, Ethan managed to smile, even as he watched Justin blink back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

“Come on; we’ll go to the bar on campus, and I’ll buy you a drink.”

“A hard one?” Justin asked softly, and Ethan nodded.

“Only the best top shelf lemonade for you,” he promised, and Justin surprised the both of them when he chuckled.

Emboldened by the sound, as rusty as it had been, Ethan slipped his arms around Justin and pulled him into a gentle hug.  He felt Justin’s head come to rest on his shoulder and ran his hand down over the silky blond hair on the back of Justin’s head as Justin returned the embrace.

“Ethan?”

Ethan rested the side of his head against Justin’s and hummed quietly. 

“I’m glad you’re my friend.”

It was whispered, and Ethan had to clear his throat before he stepped back from Justin when Justin dropped his arms and gently pushed him away.

“Come on, Justin; let’s go and get drunk on the best carbonated water a poor college student can buy.”

Justin let his lips curve again, and after storing his canvas, he grabbed his bag and followed Ethan out of the studio into the cold night.  The trip to the bar on campus was a ten-minute walk, and as they exited the building, Ethan slipped his arm around Justin’s shoulders.  They huddled together as they walked; the temperature had dropped, and by the time they reached the bar, they were both shivering, even through the thickness of their coats.  Ethan left Justin to find them a table, while he went to order their drinks. 

The bar was busy, and when Ethan turned back to find the blond, it took him a moment to locate Justin sitting in the darker part of the bar, deliberately ignoring several guys who were openly cruising him.  But as Ethan neared the table Justin had grabbed, one of the guys cruising Justin broke away from his group of friends and sat down in the empty chair beside Justin.

“Hi…” he began, only to have Justin turn tired eyes towards him.

“I’m Ri…”

“And I’m not interested,” Justin interrupted, but when the trick trailed his fingertips down Justin’s arm, Justin recoiled.

“I said no, now fuck off!” Justin said firmly, and then glanced up as Ethan set the two glasses of lemonade down onto the table.

“Not just a pretty face, are you?  Got yourself a set of big, brass balls, too, haven’t you?” the man asked, and Justin snorted.

“Yep.  I’ve also got a pretty big cock.  And I give one hell of a blowjob.  Right, honey?” he asked as he turned to look at Ethan.

Ethan huffed out a surprised laugh as he sat across from Justin. 

“Best blowjob of my life, darling,” he quipped as he removed his coat, and then grinned as the trick glared at them before finally moving away.

It was warmer in the bar than outside, and Ethan noticed that Justin had removed his coat as well.  Neither of them could afford to get sick, and that was sure to happen if they remained warmly dressed.  Raising his glass, Ethan grinned when Justin rolled his eyes, but he tapped his own glass against Ethan’s.

“You could have gotten a beer.  I wouldn’t have minded,” Justin said, and Ethan shrugged.

“Nah, I’ll stick with the hard stuff tonight,” he said, making Justin roll his eyes at him.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, until Ethan set his glass down and fixed Justin with a severe look.

“Justin, part of your therapy is to face certain truths.  When you asked me to be a part of that therapy, I had to agree to call you out when you became pessimistic.”

“Fuck, Ethan, not tonight,” Justin said as he set his glass down, but Ethan reached across the table and settled his hand on top of Justin’s wrist. 

“Every night,” he said firmly.  “Every night and day and moment in between.  _That_ was the deal.  We _all_ agreed to complete honesty.”

Justin lowered his eyes to the table, but nodded dejectedly when Ethan carefully squeezed his wrist.

“In regards to that agreement, I can _honestly_ say that I _really_ dislike the fucker; but it wasn’t all trick and locks and dates at the baths.  You won’t discuss said fucker with Alex, and that’s your decision.  But the agreement was for _honesty_ , Justin.  You won’t discuss the fucker, because you feel like you’re betraying him if you do, and that’s okay.  I’ve told you this before.  But you _will_ talk about it with Sam or me or Daphne; now, tell me a good memory that you have of him.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed as he stared back at his friend unhappily, causing Ethan to lean across the table slightly.

“Don’t make me call Daphne,” he warned softly, and Justin’s eyes flew to meet his own.  “You know that I will,” Ethan continued, and when Justin pressed his lips tightly together in irritation, Ethan shot him a cheeky grin and settled back down slightly in his chair.

It wasn’t an idle threat; when her best friend ended up in the hospital, Daphne had gone from a pit bull to a rabid Doberman. ‘Protective’ didn’t even begin to cover Daphne’s attitude towards Justin now.  But as protective as she was of him, according to Justin she was an even bigger pain in the ass than Alex when it came to him following his therapy rules.  But Justin loved her fiercely; how could he not, when the girl had more than looked after him when he was at his lowest.     

Justin had lost count of the number of times Daphne had crawled into bed with him and held him while he cried after a therapy session.  Hers had been the first face he had seen when he had woken up in the hospital; while his mom had wept in the background, Daphne had gotten in his face and told him that if he thought he was going to check out on her, he had another thing coming.  To Daphne, it hadn’t mattered that Justin had been restrained at the time – her relief had come out as pure anger, and Justin had clung to her strength ever since. 

She hadn’t left his side - from spoon feeding him when he had had been too lost in grief to remember to eat, to making sure that he took his pills every day without fail.  From dragging his ass into the shower and washing his body, to bringing him daily cups of caramel mocha from Starbucks.  Justin had told her during a bad day that he wished he was straight, so that he and Daphne could make a go of it; Daphne had laughed softly and told him that they would kill each other within the week.  She was perfectly happy being his bfhe – best fag hag ever.

And while Daphne and Ethan were united in helping him, Justin knew damn well that they didn’t really get along.  Daphne partially blamed Ethan and Sam for Justin and Brian’s relationship falling apart.  And Ethan reacted accordingly.  But they all put their own personal shit aside to help Justin, and would continue to do so.  So, when Ethan threatened to call Daphne, Justin knew the other boy meant business. 

“Tell me about the first time you realized that he cared for you,” Ethan said, and when Justin sighed, Ethan squeezed his wrist in silent support. 

It was only when Justin turned his wrist over so that they were holding hands that Ethan let out the breath he had been holding.  Sometimes it was hit and miss with Justin when it came to making the blond talk about Brian.  There were days he could be talked into it like today.  And then there were the days where even a hint of _maybe_ talking about Brian would send Justin into a tailspin of fucking tricks; those days resulted in tears and self-discrimination and Ethan actively having to stop Daphne from hunting the fucker down and tearing his balls off.

“He was driving…”

“Uh, uh… use your words properly, _darling_ ,” Ethan sang out cheerily, and Justin glowered at him as Ethan’s lips twitched.

“Asshole,” Justin said dryly, and Ethan snorted.  “Fine.  _Brian_ was driving me to school, and we were talking about the effects coffee could have on your body.  He made some asinine comment about there being no complaints in regard to his performance in bed, and I told him something about youth being on my side, which let me fuck all night and still score fifteen hundred on my SATs.  He said that I could go anywhere with a score like that, and I told him that I had applied to Dartmouth and Brown.”

A small smile crossed Justin’s face, and his fingers tightened within Ethan’s momentarily.

“He sort of looked at me real quickly, and said that he hadn’t known that I was going out of state, and I _knew_.  He had panicked at the thought of me leaving the Pitts, and for half a second, the great Kinney walls had come down, and I saw inside.  Of course, he covered it up fast when I was bratty about that slip, but it didn’t change the fact that I knew he cared about me.  It was later that night when we were in the loft that he… that _Brian_ asked me where else had I had applied to go to school.”

“How’d he ask?” Ethan murmured as Justin’s eyes took on that faraway look they sometimes got whenever he was falling back into his memories of happier times.  He and Daphne had learned over the last three months to just let Justin delve into his own mind – they got better results that way.

“He’d already fucked me twice, and I was lying on my stomach all drowsy and worn out, and sort of just… floating along, you know?  Enjoying the moment.  Brian was smoking, and he rolled over and ran his finger down my spine and asked me how many schools had come begging for my favor.  So, I told him; Brown, Dartmouth, Harvard, Yale, and Stanford had all invited me to attend their school, and had sent along a list of pros as to why _their_ school was the _very best_ one for me. 

“Brian had an argument against each and every one of them; they were all very reasonable arguments, and if he hadn’t let his walls down earlier in the morning, I would have thought that he was simply making me see the pros and cons of each school.  But I _knew_ , and _he_ knew that _I_ knew, and when I mentioned that I had also applied to PIFA, his arguments for PIFA were all pros. 

“He, uh… turned that pros list into a lesson on how long he could make me hold out while he was rimming me.  I came so fucking hard in the end that I passed out.  I surfaced slightly when Brian was cleaning me up with a damp cloth, and I remember hearing him mutter that Stanford didn’t teach proper little gay boys about rimming; that if I stayed in the Pitts, then my _education_ would be second to none.

“I stayed quiet, and when he came back to bed, he, uh… he opened another condom and eased his way back into my body.  He hadn’t done it before… I always wanted to fall asleep with his cock inside me, but he wouldn’t do it.  I know most guys are too sensitive after they cum, but I love it… and here he was, pushing back inside of me, and pulling me into his arms.  I fell asleep stuffed full of cock, and with a smile on my face.  He was back to ‘normal’ the following day, of course; but I could remember hearing and feeling him when he thought I was asleep.  He didn’t want me to leave the Pitts.”

Ethan watched as Justin blinked, and when Justin glanced at Ethan and then lowered his chin as he attempted to withdraw his hand from Ethan’s, Ethan tightened his grip until Justin peeked up at him from behind the curtain of pale hair that covered his eyes.

“He cared about you, Justin; you know this.  You were happy together at one point.  And yeah, ok, it turned to shit in the end.  But you know what love looks like.  And one day, you’ll know how it feels again.”

Justin’s teeth worried the corner of his lips before he pulled his hand away from Ethan’s grip.  Sitting back in his chair, he tucked his hair behind his ear, and when he finally spoke, his voice was firm with conviction.

“If being in love leaves me feeling like this, Ethan, I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a long time to be alone, Justin,” Ethan said softly, and Justin shrugged.

“Better to be alone than lonely in a relationship,” he said quietly.  “I know Brian cared about me; even when I was at my lowest point, I knew that, Ethan.  But it’s one thing knowing it, and another thing entirely hearing him tell everyone who would listen that he just didn’t give a shit; that I was just a guy he fucked more than once.” 

Justin smiled bitterly and lifted his glass, draining the lemonade before standing up and shrugging into his coat.

“You heading home?” Ethan asked, and Justin shook his head.

“Nah, I’m working tonight.”

Ethan winced when he thought about the hours Justin pulled at the 24-hour BP, but whenever he or Daphne brought it up, Justin reminded them that he could be dancing on the bar at Babylon instead.

“You need a lift?  I have Sam’s car,” Ethan offered as he pulled one his own coat, but Justin shook his head.

“I’m a big boy, Ethan; I’m perfectly fine catching the bus.  Thanks anyway.”

“What time do you finish?” Ethan asked as Justin checked the time on his cell.

“I’m doing nine ‘till three.  I don’t have class until eleven tomorrow.”

“Are you catching the bus home?” Ethan asked.

Justin nodded.  “Gives me time to study,” he explained.

Ethan nodded mutely in return  he followed Justin out of the bar and back into the cold.  The two boys maintained their silence as they walked briskly across campus, and when they reached the parking lot, Ethan caught Justin’s hand in his.

“Justin, come on.  Let me give you a lift.”

Justin stepped closer to Ethan and brushed their lips together lightly before he hitched his bag up a little further.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said determinedly, before turning to walk towards the bus stop.

Ethan blew into his cupped hands, but continued to stand still as he watched Justin reach into his jacket pocket and pull out the black beanie he tended to wear when it was cold like this.  The dark wool covered all that bright hair, and as Justin pulled it down around his ears, he slowly melded into the shadows until he disappeared from sight.  Turning towards Sam’s car, Ethan unlocked the door even as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

Starting the car, Ethan turned the heater on and sat there while he waited for the car to warm up.  While he did so, he sent a quick text message to Sam to let him know he was on his way home before he dialled Daphne’s number.  The phone only rang twice before her voice came over the line.

“Ethan, did you find him?”

“Hi, Ethan, how are you on this fine cold evening?  Thank you so much for going out to find our friend.  Why I’m just fine, Daphne, thank you so much for asking!” Ethan replied dryly, smirking when he heard Daphne bite back a sharp retort.

“Yes, I found him,” Ethan said finally when Daphne maintained an icy silence.  “He was in the studio; he’s struggling with his current assignment.”

“What’s the topic?” Daphne asked, and Ethan sighed.

“Romance and love,” he said quietly, and then his eyes widened comically when Daphne lit up the air with a string of expletives that would have made a seasoned sailor blush.  When Daphne finally fell silent, Ethan spoke again.  “I took him out for a drink…”

“He can’t drink while taking his antidepressants!” Daphne shouted, and Ethan swore softly.

“I know that, Daphne!  I’m not a complete idiot!” he spat.  “We had a lemonade if that’s all right with you!”

Daphne swore again, but when she finally spoke, her voice had warmed slightly.

“I’m sorry, Ethan.  It’s just been a long day; Alex said he didn’t do well in therapy today…I’m just worried.”

Ethan slumped further down into the driver’s seat, and finally let his own guard down.

“We spoke about Brian,” he offered gently, and when Daphne’s sound of surprise echoed in his ear, Ethan smiled.  “I did exactly what Alex told us to; Justin was down on himself when I found him.  We both know that’s normal on a Sunday.  So, when he told me about the assignment and said that he knew nothing about love, I made him bring up a good memory regarding the fucker.  He was fine when we left the bar, Daphne, and he is currently on his way to the bus stop so he can go to work. Now before you bite my head off again, I offered to drive him, but he turned me down – he said he was a big boy.”

“What time does he finish?” Daphne asked, and Ethan blew out a soft breath when he heard that the ice was finally gone from Daphne’s voice.

“He’s doing nine ‘till three, so he should be home by four AM at the latest.  He has a class at eleven tomorrow, and I’m meeting up with him and Sam at two for a late lunch,” Ethan informed her, and after Daphne murmured her thanks, they hung up. 

Putting the car into gear, Ethan left the parking lot and slowly head towards the bus stop where he knew Justin waited to go to work.  He relaxed further when he saw that the stop was empty; Justin had made his bus on time.  It was only the affection that he had for Justin that stopped him from telling Daphne to fuck off when she got like this.  He  knew how frightened she had been when the hospital had called her after Justin had OD’d in the tub – Ethan point blank refused to believe that Justin had attempted suicide, which was something else he and Daphne had in common  – so he knew that there had to be give-and-take between him and Daphne when it came to Justin.

Checking to make sure it was safe to merge, Ethan continued to head towards home.  He followed the rules Alex had established for their rag-tag group – they all did.  Because while Ethan might not believe that Justin had attempted suicide, he did know for a fact that he was suffering from depression. And unlike the people that the fucker called friends, Ethan didn’t ignore a person when they were in pain.  He faced it head on – and Justin and his friendship were far too valuable to him to let the blond go on hurting.  Not on his watch – not ever.  So, he would bite his tongue around Daphne, and together they would continue to support Justin until he was better.  It was as simple as that.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

Brian sat in the darkened loft and stared blindly out across the space.  He was ignorant to the expensive furniture that sparsely decorated his home; instead, he saw images of things long past.  Justin cooking in the kitchen and greeting him with a blinding smile as he walked through the door after work.  Running his hands over slick skin in the shower as the scent of soap and sex rose between them.  Lying in bed in the middle of the night, and watching Justin’s chest rise and fall with each breath that he took.  Feeling Justin’s breath gush quick and jaggedly over his shoulder as the boy lay trembling and sticky beneath him.

But as hard as those images were to remember, there were other memories which were far worse.  Memories of tear-stained cheeks, and ivory skin bleached white with distress.  Soft cheeks flushed with humiliation, as the muscles in Justin’s jaw jumped and clenched as he fought to maintain what scraps of pride he had left.  Those bright, blue eyes that had once shown every drop of emotion that Brian could barely name, let alone speak, had slowly shuttered over time until Justin’s eyes had become as blank as one of his canvases.

_“Brian?  I'm sorry.”_

_“What for?”_

_“You know what for.  I didn't mean for it to happen.”_

Brain had been so sure that Justin had left Rage, had left Babylon… had left _him_ for the pretty musician.  Ethan Gold – brilliant violinist in his third year at PIFA.  Twenty-one years old; lived in an absolute dump of an apartment, in an even worse part of the city.  An “A” student, one who was on a full scholarship, and destined for greatness upon the stages of the world while his adoring crowd marveled at his talent.  A far better choice for Justin, which is why Brian had deliberately cut him down the night of the Rage party.  Rage had been a big, fat, fucking success, and instead of celebrating the achievement with the boy, Brian had thrown him as far off the cliff as he could.  And for what?  Only to find out three months later that Ethan wasn’t _Justin’s_ boyfriend, but the boyfriend of another musician named Sam?  How the fuck did that happen?

_“Brian?  I'm sorry.”_

_“What for?”_

_“You know what for.  I didn't mean for it to happen.”_

Justin’s voice continued to haunt him; just what _had_ Justin been apologizing for that night?  Brian knew that Justin had fucked Ethan; he’d smelled the scent of sex on the boy a few days before his whispered confession.  He had scented the stale aroma of sex on the boy more than once.  What had the apology been made _for_?  If Ethan had a boyfriend, had it even _been_ Ethan that Justin had been fucking?  And if it _hadn’t_ been Ethan, had Justin merely been out tricking when Brian had all but attacked him after Michael’s revelation? 

_“Why did you stop?  Brian?”_

_“Go shower. You stink.”_

The _look_ on Justin’s face at that moment…  Nausea roiled violently in Brian’s stomach, and he swallowed hard as he recalled the fear he had seen in Justin’s eyes as Brian all but devoured him whole.  Brian knew he could argue the point and say that by the time he dragged Justin to the ground, the boy had been rock hard and not trying to pull away.  But the moment Brian had opened his mouth, he had felt Justin’s cock rapidly soften, before Justin had scrambled to his feet and fled to the bathroom.  Not wanting to bear witness to the effect his words had had for once, Brian had left the loft and had gone to Babylon.  When he eventually returned, Justin had been gone, and Brian hadn’t seen him again until Justin had come home and apologized.

_“Brian?  I'm sorry.”_

_“What for?”_

_“You know what for.  I didn't mean for it to happen.”_

_“I know.  You were the poor, helpless victim of a love-bashing.”_

Fuck!  Had that actually come out of his mouth?  Brian knew he could be cruel, that he could, would, and had used words to tear people down.  But to throw _that_ in Justin’s face?  Brian dragged his hands down over his face and blew out an unsteady breath.  Emmett had been unable to look at Brian after revealing what little information Alex had given him; for a half a second, Brian had visions of running towards Alex’s house, kicking down the door and demanding to know the truth.

_“Alex said that Justin didn’t OD; they think he tried to kill himself.”_

When Brian had opened his mouth to refute Emmett’s claim, all that had come out was a sound that Brian had never heard himself make before.  It had come from deep inside himself; deeper than his chest.  Deeper than his gut.  More than a moan, it had been thick with what Brian would later recognize as grief.  The sound had echoed in the car; it had caused Emmett to look swiftly away from Brian, and start the car without comment.  Brian couldn’t even remember making it through his own front door, let alone the drive home.  He had merely collapsed by the front door, where he had remained for the next several hours. 

_“They think he tried to kill himself.”_

Brian couldn’t make sense of it; not Justin.  Not his boy.  Not with his sunshine smile and ballsy laugh that filled with room with happiness.  It wasn’t possible.  There was no way in hell that Justin could sink so low into depression that he would attempt to take his own life.  Not when the loss of all that sunshine would affect so many people.  ‘ _What people in his life did he have left?_ ’  Brian shook his head slightly, but the thought continued to linger in his mind.  Who did Justin really have in his life now?  His mother, obviously.  Daphne; the girl was like a pit-bull when it came to her best friend.  The fiddler and his boyfriend.  Who else did Justin have?

The more Brian thought about it, the more he began to panic.  There _had_ to be other people in Justin’s life.  Brian wracked his brain; he thought back over half-remembered snippets of conversation, searching his memory for names.  Places Justin had gone.  People he had spoken about.  And the more Brian thought, the worse he began to feel.  When Justin spoke about going out to the movies or for coffee, he always spoke about Daphne.  Shopping with Emmett.  Having drinks with Michael and Ben.  Talking about math, and how it could be applied to playing pool with Ted.  Enjoying dinner with Lindsay and Mel, while spending time with Gus.  Working and living with Deb and Vic.  Loving Brian.

Brian grasped his head in his hands tightly, and dry heaved violently; he couldn’t get the image of what Justin looked like earlier in the day out of his mind.  Disturbingly thin, Justin had seemed like a shadow of his former self.  Yes, his hair was longer, but it was so much more than that.  Unsolicited, the memory of Justin tracking him down at Woody’s rose to the front of his mind, and Brian gagged on the taste of his own bile.  Back then, Justin had been fearful of crowds and had shunned them at all costs. 

Seeing him on Alex’s doorstep today was so much worse than that.  It was almost like Justin had caved in on himself.  No longer did he stand tall and proud, with his sheer presence making up for his slight stature.  Justin had seemed more than brittle today – he looked like he was one small breeze away from shattering.  Even at his worst after the bashing, Brian had never seen Justin appear this frail.  That thought was reiterated by the way Ethan had handled Justin; Ethan’s arms around Justin hadn’t been merely for comfort – Justin had been unsteady on his feet as Ethan led him to the car. 

Looking back at the memory, Brian wondered if Justin’s head on Ethan’s shoulder hadn’t been about comfort, but about sheer exhaustion.  Brian knew from past experience that when Justin had been trying to recover from the bashing, there had been days where he merely curled into Brian’s side on the couch and rested his head in Brian’s lap.  It hadn’t been about comfort then, either – Justin had given all that he had inside himself during that time, and some days he just had nothing left to offer.

Brian knew he needed answers; he knew that sitting on the floor would accomplish nothing in gaining those answers.  He didn’t even know the fucking questions that he knew he needed to ask.  And there were so many questions swirling around in his brain.  But all the how’s, and why’s, and seriously, what the fuck’s wouldn’t change the fact that when Justin had needed him, Brian hadn’t been there.  Again.         

_“Brian?  I'm sorry.”_

Brian thudded his head back against the loft door when Justin’s voice whispered through his mind again, and he swallowed against the constriction in his throat.  Closing his eyes, Brian ignored the heated moisture he felt roll down the side of his face and concentrated on taking a steadying breath.  Sorry wasn’t bullshit when it truly mattered.  Sorry wasn’t bullshit when that was the only emotion that he felt.  And he was.  He was sorry, too.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Brian knocked on the front door quietly; by the time he had found the strength to claw his way up from the floor, it had been close to nine PM.  In the moments after leaving the loft, Brian had had only one clear destination in mind.  And when the curtains on the door parted, Brian had to swallow hard against the emotion that was tearing him apart when the door opened, and Debbie peered out at him.

“Brian?”

For a silent moment in time, Brian wondered if Deb was going to yell at him for the late hour.  But as she looked him over, Debbie’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and she reached out to take his hand into her own.  And at that moment, Brian came to the sudden realization that Debbie seemed unsurprised to see him.  As she pulled him gently into the front foyer that had represented safety when he was a child, Brian spoke with absolute certainty.

“You knew.  About Justin.  You knew, didn’t you?”

Debbie looked at him for a long moment before she finally nodded.

“Yeah, honey.  I knew.”

Brian searched himself for the rage he so desperately wanted to find as Debbie led him into the kitchen.  But he was unable to find it as Debbie sat him down at the kitchen table, and turned to make him a cup of coffee.  She maintained her silence as she prepared the two cups, and when she set it down in front of Brian, she sat beside him and reached out to grasp his hand tightly between both of hers.

“After Justin walked out on us at the diner, I rang Jennifer, and I told her that after everything I had done for Justin, I had expected more from him.  She laughed, but her laughter sounded…wrong, somehow.  She laughed, Brian, until all she could do was cry.  She said that when she had let Justin move in with me, she had expected _me_ to help _her_ keep her son safe in this new world he had discovered.  So, could I please explain to her why her son was in the hospital, and why a psychologist had spent the evening telling her that her son had tried to kill himself?”

Debbie sighed, and as Brian stared at her, she seemed to age right before his eyes.  He couldn’t remember seeing the lines on Debbie’s face that he saw now, and it was with slight wonder that he finally realized that Debbie had been keeping this secret for months.  But Debbie was looking at him with damp eyes, and Brian couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“She… I didn’t believe her at first.  Not _our_ Sunshine.  But Jennifer ran straight over the top of my arguments, Brian.  She said that Justin had been unhappy for months before he left us, and that we had all ignored it.  He had been hurting since the bashing, and none of us saw it.  He learned to hide how he was really feeling behind that beautiful smile, and somehow… we missed it, Brian.  I put his moods down to the fact that he was a hormonal, fucking teenager, and I ignored what was right in front of me.

“I told Jennifer that I was going to call you, and we would be there within the hour.  She said to me that if anyone of us set foot in that hospital, she was would have us arrested for child endangerment.  She didn’t care if she had to raise unholy hell to do it, but she would find a way to keep us from seeing Justin.  From hurting him any further than we already had.  I’m ashamed to say, Brian, that I accused her of meaning _you_ in that statement.  She laughed at me and said that you were the least of her concerns, that you were at least honest about the fact that you took pleasure in humiliating people.  It was the rest of us that she hadn’t seen coming.

“I demanded to know what the hell Justin had been saying, for her to speak to me like that.  Jennifer said that maybe I should concentrate _less_ on how she chose to raise _her_ child, and more on how I had raised my own.  No one speaks to me about Michael like that, and when I said that to her, she got real calm like.  Then she asked me if I had raised my son to deliberately hurt children, because if I had, then she hoped that there was a special place in hell for me.  She then told me that I was never to approach her or Justin again.  Then she hung up, and I was left sitting here, feeling like I had been hit by a fucking bus. 

“Brian, in the two years that I have known Jennifer Taylor, she has _never_ said anything to me like that before.  I didn’t say anything to anyone about the phone call; I went straight to the hospital, instead, and I demanded to see Justin.  He wasn’t in the general wards when the nurse checked, and I had to wait for ages until Alex Wilder walked out, and asked to speak to me in private.  He took me through the hospital, and through this set of locked doors.  I’d never been in that part of the hospital; it was behind those locked doors that I saw Justin for the first time.”

Debbie swallowed and then tightened her grip on his hand.

“Justin was…they had retrained his hands to the side rails of the bed, and there were straps across his body.  There was a nurse who sat right beside his bed the entire time I was there, and she didn’t take her eyes off him _once_.  Alex wouldn’t let me into his room to speak to him; not to whisper his name, or to kiss his cheek, or to tell him that I was there, and that I loved him.  Alex told me that Justin had been heavily sedated, and he wouldn’t know if the building was burning down around him.

“And while I stood on the other side of the observation glass, wondering what the hell had happened to lead him to this point, Jennifer walked in.  She had aged twenty years overnight, Brian.  And as I looked at her, at this wonderful woman that I admired and cared for, I connected with her as a _mother_.  I _knew_ her pain, Brian, because I felt what she felt.  And I knew at that moment that I would help Jennifer in any way that I could.  I would lie to _all of_ _you_ , to protect _him._ I would never fail that beautiful kid again.”

Debbie let go of Brian’s hands and sat back in her chair.  She stared at him for a minute, before she picked her cup up and took a mouthful of her coffee.  Setting her cup down with a soft thud, Debbie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“Now; what do you want to know?”

There were hundreds of questions swirling through Brian’s mind.  But only one came out in the form of a single croaked word.

“How?”

Debbie’s face contorted, and she reached out to grab Brian’s hands again.

“Honey, that isn’t important…”

“How, Deb?” Brian managed, and Debbie sighed as she squeezed his hands.

“I can only tell you what Jennifer and Ethan have managed to piece together, because Justin refuses to talk about it.  The day he walked out on us in the diner, he went to Ethan’s where he had been staying, and he ran a bath.”

Brian’s whole body convulsed as the mental picture of Justin drowning in the bath flashed through his mind, and Deb immediately rose to her feet and gathered him into her arms.  Pressing his head against her chest, Debbie rocked Brian even as her words ran into each other in her rush to speak.

“No, Brian, get that image out of your head right now.  Justin loves taking baths; when he was living here, he would spend ages in the tub in the middle of the night.  He probably ran the bathtub to relax.”

Brian could only nod, but Debbie still refused to let him go.  For a long moment the kitchen remained silent, and when Deb eventually sat back down, Brian surprised himself when he was the one to reach for Debbie’s hands first.  Her lips curved slightly as she rubbed her thumb over Brian’s knuckles, and then she began to speak again.

“When Ethan got home from school, he found Justin in the tub.  There was a half-empty bottle of Beam on the floor, and an open container of sleeping tablets on the counter.  Ethan called Justin’s name, and when Justin didn’t answer him, Ethan pulled back the curtain surrounding the bathtub and found Justin unconscious.  Ethan tried waking him up, and when he couldn’t, he pulled him out of the bath and stuck his fingers down Justin’s throat.  That move probably saved Justin’s life, because he spewed up some of what was in his gut.

“Ethan called an ambulance after that, and Justin was taken straight through to emergency.  He had his stomach pumped while Ethan filled the hospital staff in on how he had found Justin, and then he called Jennifer.  From what Jennifer said, Alex was called in after that, and things happened very quickly.  Justin was sedated and moved to the psychiatric ward of the hospital.  Alex sat down with Jennifer, Ethan, and Daphne to tell them that Justin had to be observed and evaluated, because this was a possible suicide attempt.  Justin was in the psychiatric unit for close to three weeks before he was released; he was formally diagnosed during that time as suffering from clinical depression.”

“Why wasn’t I notified?” Brian asked quietly in the silence that followed.  “When Justin moved in with me, I was put down as his POA.  I should have been notified, Deb.”

Debbie licked her lips before shrugging in defeat.

“Brian, Daphne is Justin’s POA now.  She had been for several months, even before all of this happened.  From what I could work out, she and Justin filed the paperwork not long after he stopped dancing at Babylon.  When I asked Daphne why Justin had given her his POA, she said that it wasn’t her story to tell, but she knew why Justin had done it, and it was up to him as to whether or not he told me.”  

Brian pushed away from the table and walked to the back door.  Leaning against the open door, he lit a cigarette and stared out over the darkened yard.  Had things really been that bad for him and Justin, that the boy had planned this out?  Did Justin think that he couldn’t have come to Brian if he was in trouble?  If Justin hadn’t left him for Ethan, when had he finally decided enough was enough?

“Have you seen him?” he finally asked; he glanced over his shoulder at Debbie when she sighed.

“No, honey, I haven’t spoken to Justin since he left the diner that day.  Jennifer looked into my eyes at the hospital, and she saw how much I loved her son.  That is the only reason _she_ has let me back in; we speak every day, and she keeps me updated on how Justin is doing.  He has what Alex calls group therapy every Thursday; that’s when Jennifer or Daphne or Ethan is invited to participate in the therapy session with him.  Justin knows that I am aware of what happened, but he hasn’t asked me to join a session; he refuses to let me back into his life for some reason.  Alex said he doesn’t know if Justin ever will.”

Finishing the last of his smoke, Brian exhaled slowly as he closed the door, and turned back to face Debbie.

“Does anyone else know?” he asked, and Debbie shook her head.

“I don’t think so.  I promised Jennifer that day in the hospital that I wouldn’t say anything to the family.  That I would give her time to help Justin find his footing again.  How _did_ you find out, Brian?” Debbie asked, and Brian shrugged slightly.

“Alex approached Emmett; Emmett came to me earlier today, and took me to the park near Alex’s place.  I saw Ethan and Sam waiting to pick up Justin.”

Debbie huffed out an impatient breath and shook her head.

“Alex might as well have taken out an ad in the fucking newspaper,” she mumbled, but Brian shook his head.

“It’s not Emmett’s fault, Deb; I think he knew for at least a week before he came to me.  Do you know where Justin is living?”

Deb stood up even as she shook her head.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said firmly.  “You do not approach him, Brian.  Alex made that very clear to me.  Under no circumstances was I to try and reinsert myself back into Justin’s life.  Not while he is like this; not while he is still as fragile as he is.  I’m sure the same would apply to you.”

“How is he fragile, Deb?” Brian asked, and Debbie pressed her fingers against her eyes as she sank back down into her chair. 

“Justin has therapy three times a week, Brian.  And three times a week, Alex makes Justin talk about the things that are hurting him.  It tears him apart, each and every time, and the kid barely has the time to try and pull himself back together before he is torn open all over again.”

“What things?” Brian asked, and when Debbie shook her head, Brian finally found his temper.

“Stop shutting me out!  I‘ve spent the last three months thinking that Justin was happy and living the romance of his life with the fiddler!  Instead, I find out that he… what things, Deb?” he shouted, and Debbie pursed her lips together before she finally answered.

“His father.  How Justin sees himself.  His friendships and his relationship with his mom.  School.  Art.  His lack of self-worth.  His inability to understand why the people in his life want to be there, when he can’t offer them anything but himself.”

“What else?” Brian urged, and Debbie’s breath shuddered out of her before she spoke softly.

“Brian, there are two things that Justin refuses to talk about.  Alex continues to try and make Justin open up about them, and Justin continues to shut him down.  He won’t talk about the Prom and the bashing, and how he feels about it.  And he won’t talk about _you_.”

Brian felt his lips part, and he wheezed out a puff of air that hurt him to exhale.  Debbie stood up and closed the distance between them.  Reaching up, she cupped Brian’s face in her hands and looked directly into his eyes before she spoke again.

“I may not have given birth to you, Brian, but you have been my son in every way that counts since you were fourteen years old.  So, I think I am more than qualified to say that I know you.  I know how you feel about Justin.  I’ve always known, even before YOU knew _,_ and started to lie, not only to those of us around you, but to yourself as well.  You could walk into his therapy session on Tuesday, and tell him that you loved him like you should have done _months_ ago.  You could take out a full-color ad in every magazine in the country.  And Justin wouldn’t believe a word you said.”

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth as he looked away from Debbie, who urged him to sit back down.

“I don’t know what set him off, Brian.  I don’t know what triggered him to withdraw into himself the way he has.  But he’s in a bad way.  He said in one of his therapy sessions that the only reason that I let him live here was because Jennifer was paying me.  Justin truly believes that if money hadn’t been involved, he would never have been invited to live with Vic and me.  He thinks that we didn’t love him; that his presence in this house was a favor to _you_.”

Debbie let her statement sink in for a minute as she stared across the table at Brian.  He could see the bewilderment in her eyes, and hear the hurt in her voice as she spoke, and then the truth of her statement hit Brian like a ton of bricks.

“If he thinks that about you and Vic... what _else_ does he think, Deb?  What aren’t you telling me?”

Debbie licked the corner of her lip before she reached for Brian’s hand as she spoke quietly.

“Brian, he thinks that none of the family really cared for him, that we all put up with his presence in our lives because you were fucking him.  His words, not mine.  That the minute he _stopped_ letting you fuck him, we all showed him how we really felt about him when we turned our backs on him.”

Squeezing Brian’s hand hard, Debbie pushed the next sentence out of her mouth even though it hurt her to speak the words that she knew would tear Brian apart.

“He said that you never really cared about him.  He believes that all he ever was to you was a convenient piece of ass.  And no matter what Alex says, Justin won’t be convinced otherwise.  Brian… in one of his very first sessions with Alex, Justin said that he had been told that we would’ve been better off if you’d just left him lying there; he said the person who told him that was probably right.”

It took a full minute for Debbie’s words to make sense, and when they did, Brian stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over with a loud clatter.  Debbie’s eyes filled and then spilled over as Brian backed away from her shaking his head, and she stood up slowly.  Brian felt the bench bite into his lower back as Debbie approached him, and he could only stare at her as she reached up to cup his face in her palms.

“Honey… the Justin that we all know and love?  He’s buried inside the young man that Ethan pulled out of the bath.  It’s the _depression_ talking for Justin now; that _ballsy_ kid who lived here knew that you cared about him.  If I find out who spewed that shit at him, I’m going to string them up by their balls.  But that doesn’t change the fact that somewhere along the line, Justin stopped thinking clearly.  We both know it, Brian.”

Brian swallowed convulsively, and when Debbie smoothed her thumb under his eyes, he ignored the moisture that he could feel her wiping away.

“Chris Hobbs rewired his brain when he bashed him, Deb.  That’s what happened,” he said hoarsely, and Debbie nodded sadly.

“That’s what Alex and Jennifer think, too.  And it’s up to us, to try and help him find his way out of the darkness.  I honestly think that it’s time we called a family meeting.  I don’t want the others to find out the way you did.  Maybe I should have told you earlier, but I couldn’t do it, Brian.”

“Do what?” he asked as Debbie wrapped her arms around him tightly.

Tilting her head back to look up at him, Debbie smiled sadly.

“I couldn’t be the one to put the look on your face that is there now; I couldn’t be the one to break your heart.”

Later, Brian would wonder if he should have said something to dispute her notions.  She couldn’t break his heart – you can’t break what’s already broken.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

A lot could be said for the family, but when Debbie rang them at ten PM at night, and said that she was calling an emergency family meeting, concern pulled them out of their warm beds on a cold Sunday night with barely a grumbled word of complaint.  Shock kept them silent at the table when Debbie sat beside Brian and laid down the basic facts as she knew them – nothing about Ethan or Sam, or the fact that Brian was beginning to think he might have gotten his information unbearably wrong.

Brian kept his gaze on Gus as Debbie’s voice rose and fell; his son slept in his arms, his innocent face slack in sleep.  He couldn’t remember how many times he had seen Justin sitting there with Gus asleep in his arms, or how many times he had found his two boys sleeping together either on the couch or in his bed.  Seventeen years separated the two, but the innocence had been apparent on each face; Brian wondered if Justin still looked innocent when he slept, or if his troubles were visible even as he dreamed.  He was torn out of his musings when Lindsay’s voice rose shrilly.

“No, not Justin… you’re _wrong_ , Deb!  Justin… he just wouldn’t!”   

Looking up, Brian let his gaze settle briefly on each person.  Faces bleached pale with shock, the look in each person’s eyes varied.  Vic looked like he was two seconds away from bolting out of his chair and into the night to find his youngest boy.  Lindsay was openly crying, while Mel looked distraught.  Ted and Ben both looked like they were going to be physically sick.  Emmett’s face was carefully blank, but he met Brian’s gaze steadily.  And Michael looked… guilty.  Brian felt his forehead crease; this wasn’t the first time he had seen Michael look guilty.  But Mel was speaking, and Brian forced his attention back to her.

“I knew Justin had changed his POA,” she admitted quietly, and when Lindsay twisted in her seat to look at Mel, Mel held her hand up.

“Before you start, I couldn’t say anything, Lindsay, no matter how badly I might have wanted to.  And before you say it, it wasn’t to punish Brian, or to hold anything over his head!  Justin _hired_ me; in hiring me, he bought my silence.  I could lose my _job_ if I talked about it at home, you know that.”

Lindsay shifted in her seat, and when she glanced down at her hands, her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

“So, you know _why_ Justin gave Daphne his POA?”

Mel nodded unhappily, even as she looked across the table at Brian.

“It wasn’t because he was planning on leaving you, Brian,” she said in a voice that was strangled with unshed tears.  “That thought was nowhere in his head when he and Daphne came into my office.  I _tried_ talking him out of it; he wouldn’t be swayed.  He said he had thought long and hard about it, and that this was the best course of action.”

“We can’t have secrets between us anymore,” Lindsay said tearfully, and Mel sighed.

“Linds… I wasn’t keeping it a secret.  I was keeping attorney/client privileges; Justin isn’t stupid.  We all know how fucking smart he is.  He made a formal appointment, he walked in, and he paid cash to purchase my silence.  He knew what he was doing.”

“Why did he change his POA if he wasn’t planning on leaving Brian, though?” Lindsay asked, and Mel shook her head.

“I can’t, Linds…” she whispered.  “I wish I could _offer_ you even a hypothetical, but I just _can’t_.”

“I, uh…”  Emmett coughed, and glancing quickly at Brian, tried again.  “I uh, have this friend.  Gorgeous, funny…a real diamond.  He was, uh… he found employment dancing at a club.”

Mel’s sharp intake of breath silenced the table at large, and she and Emmett locked eyes before Mel nodded as tears began to spill down over her cheeks.

“He was uh… making good money,” Emmett finally said.  “And then his boss said that he could make even more if he would consider doing private parties.  My friend was really nervous about it; he said he got a funny vibe from the boss.  But he couldn’t turn the money down.  So, he went to the party, but the longer he was there, the more nervous he got.  He was told he was nothing more than a decoration; to take his shirt off and to loosen up.  Have some fun.  The boss was handing out drugs like candy, and my friend, uh… he did some coke.  A single line. 

“But he said that was fine; it made him a little jittery, but he was okay, you know?  It was when the boss shared a joint with him that it got…weird.  The joint made him really thirsty, so his boss handed him a glass of water.  After that, he said he could barely stand up; that walking took on a forty-five-degree angle, and that he was convinced that the walls were moving.  His boss offered to show him around the house; he took him into a room where all these guys were waiting.”

Emmett looked down at the table as Ted reached out to wrap his arm around Emmett’s shoulders, and when the tears began to roll down his face unnoticed, Brian silently handed Gus to Vic who was sitting beside him, as fear warred with undiluted rage at the thought of what had been done inside that room.  Brian wasn’t stupid – he _knew_ Emmett was talking about Justin. 

“There were two swings in the room… sex swings,” Emmett finally said.  “One of the other dancers were already in one.  He was surrounded by guys, and he was being fucked.  Jus.. my friend said that the other dancer was unconscious, even as all these different guys were taking turns with him.  The boss asked my friend if he had ever been in a swing; that they were fun.  My friend said no.  He didn’t want to.  He kept repeating that, even as some of the guys in the room came up to him, and started to touch him. 

“His boss tried _convincing_ him; someone held a vial of something up under his nose, and my friend almost passed out.  It was only the fact that his allergies had been acting up, and that his nose was partially blocked that saved him from blacking out.  But whatever was in that vial still sent him reeling, and while he was trying to clear his head, while he kept repeating the word _no_ , his boss was trying to undress him, trying to get him into the swing.  His boss kept telling him that it would be fun, that, uh…”

Emmett broke off and finally looked back towards Brian.  When the two men locked eyes, Emmett eventually dropped all pretences and spoke plainly.

“Brian… Gary called Justin a party favor; he can remember one of the guys saying that he wanted to try out Kinney’s _private stock_ , that they wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and why Kinney guarded Justin’s ass like it was the crown jewels.  Justin had the presence of mind that when Gary dropped to his knees to unbutton Justin’s pants, Justin kneed him in the mouth as hard as he could.  That was the only thing that saved him from that swing, and what would have happened to him if Gary had been successful in getting him into it.”

In the silence that followed, Emmett swallowed hard as Brian’s eyes burned into his own.

“Why didn’t he say anything?” Brian finally asked.  “Why didn’t _you_ say anything, Em?  Do you know how many times I dragged him to Babylon _after_ that party?  Fuck!”

Brian shoved his hands through his hair as Emmett shook his head and spoke quietly.

“Brian… the only reason I found out is because the other dancer was someone I knew personally.  Cam left the Pitts afterward, and when I tracked him down a few weeks later, he said that he had a vague recollection of Justin being there that night.  So I asked Justin what happened, and it took a lot of alcohol for him to even _admit_ to what had Gary had tried doing.

“When I asked Justin why he hadn’t said anything, he told me that he had gotten lost trying to get back to the loft.  He was walking around with no shirt on, and no idea where he was; he was utterly terrified, Brian, that Gary would come out of the shadows and drag him back to the party, so he just kept walking.  When he finally got home, he had thrown up several times from whatever had been put in his drink; you weren’t at home or answering your cell, so he called Daphne because he needed help. 

“She took him to the clinic, and he was hooked up to an IV to help rehydrate him.  The nurses there told him that he was fortunate that he had had a friend nearby as they thought he had been drugged with GHB.  Daphne took Justin back to the loft when he was released, and they sat up for the rest of the night talking about how often you had to travel for business, and that in an emergency, it could be hard to get through to you.  That’s why he probably changed his POA to Daph; that girl will drop everything for Justin, just like he would for her.”

“Why didn’t he tell me, Em?” Brian asked again, and Emmett finally sighed.

“He was _humiliated_ , Brian; to be publically called Kinney’s _fuck toy_ by men you don’t even know?  Justin said it was bad enough being called your kept boy by the fags of Liberty Avenue, but he had never seen half of these men before, and they were in that room for one reason and one reason only.  Whether Justin wanted to or not, Brian, they would have fucked him regardless if they had succeeded in getting him into that swing.  I don’t blame him for not telling anyone – I doubt _I_ would have said anything, either, if it had been me. 

“But _that’s_ why he quit dancing at Babylon.  And I think that’s why he won’t go to Babylon _now_ ; the fear of what could happen to him even when he says no is something that is a reality to Justin now.  At least when he goes to Boytoy, he isn’t known as Kinney’s twink.  Or Kinney’s _private stock_.  He’s just Justin, and he can fuck whoever he wants without it being a tactic for a trick to get to _you_.  He’s not the King of Babylon; he’s just a boy looking for a good time.”

“Wait a minute,” Michael said sitting up in his chair.  “Is Justin cheating again?  Is that why he tried to…you know?”

“Huh?” Emmett said looking confused at the sudden change in conversation, and Michael looked between Brian and Emmett.

“You said that he can fuck who he wants at Boytoy; what’s the fiddler think about that?” Michael asked, and Brian tilted his head.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Brian asked, and Michael shook his head in confusion.

“Brian, he _left_ you for the fiddler; we _all_ saw Justin walk out of Babylon with him… we all saw it!” Michael insisted hotly.

“What did we really see, Mikey?” Brian asked quietly.  “Yes, we all saw Justin leave with Ethan; the image is burned into all of our minds.  But did he leave me _for_ Ethan… or did he walk out of Babylon _with_ Ethan?”

Michael opened his mouth, but then faltered before he spoke; it was the first time that Brian had ever admitted out loud that Justin had left him, and they were all aware of it.  Brian looked at each person who was sitting around the table as the muscle in his jaw clearly ticked; when he finally looked back at Michael, Brian visibly swallowed before he spoke.

“You told me that he was seeing someone else, Mikey; did Justin _actually_ tell you that?  Or did some jealous little fag tell you?”

Michael blinked before he shifted in his seat and flushed slightly.

“I saw him with the fiddler when we were putting up posters for Rage; they were kissing in the street, Brian!”

Brian licked his lips faintly and leaned forward to brace his arms on the table.

“Kissing _how_ , Michael?” Brian asked, and Michael shook his head a little as Ben looked at Michael with wide eyes.

“I don’t know, Brian, they were just…kissing!  What does it matter, he was breaking the rules, rules that he had demanded of _you_ …”

Michael jumped in his seat when Brian slapped the table with his open palm; the two men stared at each other from across the table, and when Brian spoke again, his voice showed that he was rapidly reaching the end of his tether as Vic hushed Gus who had startled slightly at the loud noise.

“ _How_ were they kissing, Mikey?  Like you have seen Justin and me kiss hundreds of times before?  Like we want to crawl inside of each other?  Like I kiss Deb on the cheek when I walk into her house?  Like I kiss Linds lightly on the lips when I want to piss Mel off?  _How_ were they kissing?”

“Like you kiss me, Brian,” Michael said flatly.  “The fid…Ethan was kissing Justin like you kiss me; he was teasing Justin.  He had his hands on Justin’s face, and was kissing him like you kiss me…with a hint of tongue, and Justin was laughing as Ethan kept kissing him all over his face before he kissed Justin on the mouth…”

Michael broke off in bewilderment when Brian blanched and moaned low in his throat.  Voices rose slightly in confusion when Brian shoved his chair back from the table; wrapping his arms around himself, Brian bent over and closed his eyes as the voices above him went back and forth.  A warm hand settled on the back of his head, and Brian slowly sat back in his seat as Debbie ran the palm of her hand low down Brian’s back in support.  The voices fell silent as Brian looked at Michael, who visibly flinched when Brian locked eyes with his long-time friend.

“You told me, Mikey… you said that Justin was seeing someone else, that he was seeing this Ethan kid, and I took your word for it.  I _believed_ …” 

Brian broke off when his voice cracked.  The sound caused everyone at the table to look away as Brian fought to compose himself.  When he finally had his emotions back under control, Brian spoke again. 

“Ethan has a _boyfriend_ , Michael.  His name is Sam.  Ethan and Sam are Justin’s friends.  They’re not lovers.  They’re not boyfriends.  They’re not picking out china patterns, and they’re not fucking living together.  So again, I ask… _how_ did you come to the conclusion that they were?  Did Justin tell you that they were seeing each other?  Did someone else tell you that?  Or did you see something and misread it so _badly_ , that I…”

Brian pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as the last few days he had spent with Justin flashed through his mind.  Feeling sick to his stomach, he huffed out the sound of bitter laughter as he recalled the words that had been spoken between them.  Jesus, what had the family done?  What had _he_ done?  Lowering his hands, Brian finally looked at Michael who had gone deathly pale.  His lips were parted, and he was shaking his head as he stared at Brian silently.

“He… he… he _admitted_ it when I accu… asked him about it the day of the Rage party!” Michael stammered.

“I told you to stay out of it, Michael,” Ben said in a low voice, as he sat forward in his chair.  “What _exactly_ did Justin say to you?  What did you say to him?” Ben pressed when Brian rolled his lips into his mouth.

Michael licked his lips and shook his head faintly.

“I told him that Brian was pretty good to him.  I mean, you saved his life, Brian; I reminded Justin of the fact that you took him in, that you were putting him through school.  That you protected him, and looked after him.  You know?  I told him that you loved him.”

Michael broke off and swallowed hard.  “Justin said ‘ _he doesn't love me, he fucks me_.’ I asked him, why don't you find somebody else?  Or maybe you already have.  And then Justin said something about did Brian tell you that?  And I said that Brian had never said a word, that I had told Brian that he was seeing someone else.  Justin asked me how did I know, and I told him that I had seen them kissing on the street.  He called me an asshole, and told me to mind my own business.  I said that Brian _is_ my business; he’s my best...”

Michael broke off uncertainly when Brian forcibly pushed away from the table and turned to face the kitchen bench; staring at the man he called his best friend, Michael watched as Brian braced his hands against the sink, and lowered his head.  Turning to look at his partner, Michael swallowed when he saw the disappointment in Ben’s eyes.

“Michael… if that was the conversation that you had with Justin… babe, he didn’t admit to shit,” Ben said softly as he laid his hand gently on Michael’s knee. “I warned you when you came to me about this to stay out of it, because you might be wrong.  And if what Brian is saying is true, and Ethan has a boyfriend… then, Michael, you were _really_ wrong.”

Michael shook his head frantically, even as he pleaded with his eyes for Ben to believe him.

“No… he would have denied it, Ben!  He would have said something that day, or the day after the Rage party…”

“When we all ignored him, you mean?” Ben asked softly.  “We all shut him out that morning, Michael.  Not one of us spoke to him that day, or in the days that followed.  We were all there.  I’m sure we all remember it as it happened.  Deb served us that day, and Justin stayed away from us; not one of us got up to see if he was all right.  Not one of us got up to ask him what was going on.  Not one of us left Brian’s side.  I didn’t say goodbye to him when we left; did you?” Ben asked gently, and Michael shook his head as he bit his lip.

Turning to face Debbie, Ben raised an eyebrow.

“After we had all left, Deb, did you speak to Justin?”

Debbie sighed as she looked down at her hands.

“No; unless it was regarding work, I didn’t speak to Justin for a couple of days.  He did his job, and then he left.  When he came in the day he quit, I tried asking him then where he was staying.  He told me he had orders to take, and walked away without answering.  He kept it work related after that; the one time I pushed for answers, he pointedly asked me how Brian was, knowing that I wouldn’t answer him.  He’d drawn a line in the sand, and he wasn’t letting me step over it.”

Debbie shook her head and gestured helplessly. 

“We were in the middle of the lunch rush when he came back inside from taking out the rubbish; I’d never seen him look so pale before.  He took his apron off, and when I asked him what he was doing, he turned around and told me that he knew when he wasn’t wanted; that since he was no longer with Brian, he was public enemy number one as far as the family was concerned.  He said that he knew none of us wanted to see him, so he’d do what we all wanted, and disappear.”

Debbie drew in an unsteady breath, and glancing at Brian, she spoke quietly.

“Then he walked out and went to Ethan’s.  That’s when he… that was the day Ethan found him in the bath.”

Debbie broke off when Michael stood up so fast his chair skidded across the floor and violently shook his head.

“No… You're _wrong_ … he didn’t… I didn’t mean… are you saying that he went to Ethan’s after that and tried to kill himself?  _That_ day?  _That_ was the day?” 

Debbie looked over at Michael as Brian became entirely still.  And as she stared at Michael, Jennifer’s words echoed in her head.  Disbelief had her lips parting and her voice coming out as a wheeze as she stared at her son in horror.

“Oh, Jesus, Michael, what did you do?”

Michael shook his head as the color drained out of his face.  His lips began and failed to form words as Brian slowly turned around.  It only took one look at Michael for Brian to know, and he couldn’t contain the tear that slowly spilled down his colorless cheek as he stared at his childhood friend.

“You… tell me that you didn’t say to him that we all would’ve been better off if I’d just left him lying there… you wouldn’t say something like that to him…would you, Mikey?”

Michael swallowed as he stared at Brian, and he shook his head slightly.

“I was angry, Brian… I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean for this… is this _my_ fault?  Did Justin try to… because of me?” Michael stammered as his face twisted in pain, and when Brian’s face crumpled before he turned back towards the sink, Michael shook his head again.

“I swear, I didn’t mean it!  I didn’t!  I was just angry that he had hurt you… Oh, God, Brian…” he pleaded.

Brian huffed out a sound that was pure pain, and when he turned back to face the group, he ignored the looks that he could see on the faces of the others and concentrated on looking at Michael.

“You didn’t mean… when did it become _your_ job to tear him apart?  What gave you the right to speak up?  You were _there_ that night… you _saw_ what it did to me… how could you say… he would have died that night, Michael.  I would have lost him… fuck, I _have_ lost him and for what?  A fucking kiss between friends?”

In the silence that followed, Michael could only moan softly as Ben guided him into his chair with disappointment stamped clearly on his face.  Looking across the table, Michael felt his tears scorch his cheeks as he looked at the people he called family.  The looks on their faces ranged from horror to outright disgust.  Emmett was weeping silently, while Ted refused to look at him at all.  Lindsay was openly crying, and Mel had her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shook.  Vic had risen and was standing with his back to the table as he rocked Gus in his arms.  Brian had turned back to face the sink.  And Debbie; Michael shook his head as he watched the tears roll down his mother’s face.

“Mom?” he croaked.

Debbie looked at Michael silently for a long time, before she finally crossed her hands on the table and spoke flatly.

“When I spoke to Jennifer the day that I found out about Justin, Jennifer said that maybe I should concentrate less on how she chose to raise her child, and more on how I had raised my own.  She asked me if I had raised my son to _deliberately_ hurt children because if I had, then she hoped that there was a special place in hell for me.  I put that speech down to the fact that she was hurting; I mean, her son had nearly died _twice_ in one year.  The stress of that alone would make most people curl up in the fetal position.”

Debbie shook her head, and when Michael opened his mouth, Debbie made a slashing motion with her hand that caused his mouth to snap shut.

“ _Never_ , in all my life, did I think she had the grounds for saying that to me.  I hadn’t raised my son to be cruel.  I hadn’t raised my son to _deliberately_ hurt someone who was only a child; because _that_ is what Justin _was_ when he came into our lives.  A fucking seventeen-year-old kid, who was trying to navigate this new world of ours.  Instead of welcoming him, instead of guiding him, and being a friend to him after he helped make your dreams a reality…you were tearing him down at every opportunity… so help me God, Michael if you speak right now, I will cut your tongue out!” Deb snapped when Michael tried to respond.     

“I should have spoken up when your jealousy was out of control; back when Justin first moved in with Vic and me.  I should have spoken up when you deliberately put Justin down at every turn; it didn’t matter that he seemed to be able to handle it.  He shouldn’t have _had_ to handle it.  That’s on me, and I will regret it for the rest of my life.  I should have said something back then; I’m saying it now. 

“You are a thirty-one-year-old man, in a committed relationship.  You own your own business.  You had the opportunity to have success with Rage before you fucked _that_ up.  Those are the things you _should_ be concentrating on – not what Brian does with his partner.  Because that is what Justin _was_ – not a trick, not some guy that Brian fucked more than once.  They were _partners_ , Michael; they were living together, and _not_ because Justin had nowhere else to go.  Brian _wanted_ him there – if he hadn’t, Justin would still have been living here.  How would _you_ feel if it was Brian doing this to you and Ben?”

Michael could only shake his head wordlessly as he clung to Ben’s hand.  Looking around the table, he swallowed as each person looked away from him.  Raising his gaze, he took in the way that Brian was standing by the sink; his shoulders slumped and his head lowered, Brian looked as if he barely had the strength to continue standing.

“Do you honestly think that Brian can’t grow as a person, Michael?” Deb asked.  “Why do you continue to view him as this person incapable of growth?  We’re all guilty of it.  _Brian fucking Kinney_.  But I’ll let you _all_ in on something; if he were _still_ the same selfish asshole he had been at twenty-eight, Lindsay and Mel wouldn’t have Gus.  That was the catalyst; Gus was born, and Brian started to grow up.  It’s just fate that Justin came into his life the same night that Gus did.

“You continue to say that you _know_ Brian, that he is _your best friend_ , but do you really know him anymore, Michael?  What made you the expert on the man he has become?  You are constantly saying that Brian doesn’t do boyfriends, that he doesn’t do _relationships_.  Eighteen months, Michael… they were together for over eighteen months!  That’s _not_ a trick… _that’s_ a relationship, one that you helped to destroy.”

Debbie bit her lip as she wiped her face; she wanted to tell Michael how ashamed of him she was, but from the shattered look on his face, her words would only add to the disgrace he was already feeling.  It was written all over his face.  Taking a deep breath, she levelled a severe look on each person.

“We all had a hand in this shit storm; it wasn’t just Michael.  Brian, come and sit down with us, honey.”

Deb waited until Brian finally turned around and sank back into his seat.  She was worried about how blank his face was, but knew that she would have him to herself as soon as she closed the meeting down and sent everyone back home. 

“We’re all guilty.  All we can do is move forward; try to talk to Justin…try to regain his trust.  We need to band together to help him in any way that we can, but we _must_ do this right; as I said to Brian, Alex made that crystal clear to me.  We can’t go off half-cocked, we have to follow his rules in this if we want Justin to get better.  Now, Emmett… Brian said that Alex approached you, which is how you found out.  Why did he come to you?” Deb asked.

Emmett dragged his sleeve across his eyes as he sat up from where he had been leaning against Ted, and after shooting Brian an apologetic look, he spoke in a low voice.

“Alex was trying to gain some perspective on Justin; he said that I was the only one that Justin really spoke about during therapy.”

Brian glanced at Emmett and spoke hoarsely.

“I know he won’t talk about me, Em.  Deb already told me.”

“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked desperately as she looked at Brian in dismay, and Emmett fluttered his hand briefly.

“Look, Lindsay…” he began, only to have her sit forward and speak firmly.

“ _No_ _more secrets_ , _Em!_   I _understand_ how depression can twist a person’s view of life.  I _know_ that Justin is probably devastated and feeling betrayed by how we all reacted after Rage.  So, no more secrets, no matter how harshly you think Justin has spoken.  In all honesty, it is no less than we all deserve, and it will help us understand how to approach Justin when we can.”

Emmett sighed as murmurs of agreement were heard, and tilting his head down, he spoke quickly.

“Alex said that Justin broke the family down into three groups; Lindsay and Michael were in one group – those one hundred percent loyal to Brian.  Justin said… oh, fuck, he said he wouldn’t ask either of you to sit in on therapy; he said it would probably drive him right over the edge to have to sit there and be told what an ungrateful cunt he was, when you two were half the reason that Brian got away with treating people like they were nothing more than a hole to shove his cock in.”

Emmett swallowed hard in the thick silence that followed; glancing at Lindsay and Michael, he saw that both of their faces burned with embarrassment and that they had trouble looking at anyone else at the table.  Emmett moistened the corner of his lips before he spoke again. 

“Ted, Deb, Vic, and Ben made up group two – those who were aware of Brian’s flaws, but who respected and cared for him regardless.  He said he admired and loved Vic and Deb too much to put them in the position of being made to choose between their family and some kid that Brian had fucked more than once.  He wouldn’t choose Ben because of Michael; it started and ended there.  And as for Teddy, Justin said that Ted had enough problems of his own without having to deal with some blonde boy ass who was more broken than he was.

“And then there was group three – Mel and me.  Those of us who loved Brian, but weren’t scared to call him on his shit.  Alex said that when he asked Justin whether he trusted me or Mel more, Justin said it wasn’t a matter of trust, because he no longer believed a word that any one of us said.  Not when Mel lived with Lindsay and made no secret of the fact that she hates Brian, which is a lie in and of itself.  He said that Mel was scared of Brian, that she resented him because she thought that Lindsay was waiting for Brian to tell her that she was going to be the first and only Mrs. B.A Kinney.  He said that he admired the hell out of Mel, but she needed to pull her head out of her ass and stop fearing what was never going to happen.

“As for me, after he had found out that I referred to him as Brian’s broken boy toy when he was in the hospital after Prom, Justin no longer trusted me.  It didn’t matter that my words had been aimed at Brian – those words were twisted around and delivered to Justin’s ears, and all he heard was that someone he had considered a friend had referred to him as broken and a toy.”

Lifting his eyes, Emmett glared at Michael briefly, who lowered his eyes as chagrin burned his cheeks, before Emmett spoke with an apologetic look towards Brian, who had squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his chin.

“We have _all_ said something about Justin and Brian that we have come to regret.  I didn’t realize that Justin would be told about what I had so flippantly said.  Alex came to me to help Justin; but as he said, when we are all more fucked up than Justin, how could he expect us to help him when we were partially responsible for how Justin thought about himself _now_?  Alex said I was the lesser of two evils when it came down to choosing between Mel and me; he’d keep working on Justin, and see if he couldn’t get Justin to agree to meet with me.”

In the silence that followed, Debbie casually reached out and grasped Brian’s wrist before she spoke firmly.

“I think enough has been said tonight; I think you all need to go home and get some rest.  I’ll speak to Jennifer tomorrow.  We need to know what the hard lines are that can’t be crossed; Justin’s far too fragile right now.  I don’t want to push him, and have him suffer a setback.  We follow Alex’s rules.  Now go home.”

Debbie tightened her grip on Brian’s wrist when she felt him shift his weight and glanced at him quickly when he settled back into his chair.  The rest of the family gathered their belongings without comment.  Emmett touched Brian’s shoulder in passing as he made his way out of the kitchen, but it was Mel who surprised him when she took Gus out of Vic’s arms and walked around the kitchen table so that Brian could kiss his son goodnight.  It was as Brian’s lips touched Gus’s head that Mel’s mouth rested briefly against his temple.

“I don’t hate you; I want to spank that smart little fucker for seeing too much, though.”

She stood back up, not saying anything further, and left the room without so much as a backward glance.  Lindsay took a step towards Brian, but when he looked away from her, she blinked back tears and quietly left the room.

“Brian… I’m sorry.”

Michael wrung his hands when Brian finally lifted his eyes from the table.  The two men looked at each for a moment, and then Brian lowered his eyes again as he turned his back on Michael.  Resting his hands on the table top, Brian scrapped his thumb nail over the worn surface as Michael stood in the doorway behind him uncertainly. 

“You know what the worst thing is, Michael?” Brian asked finally.  “He came home to me… and he apologized.  I keep hearing his voice in my head, telling me that he’s sorry.  But what did he have to be sorry for?  That’s all I can think about… what was he saying sorry for?  It shouldn’t have been him apologizing… it should have been _you_.”

“I’m so sorry, Brian, you _have_ to believe me,” Michael whispered, and Brian shook his head as Ben wrapped his arm around Michael.

“Not to me, Michael.  _Justin_.  You should be begging _Justin_ to accept your apology.  Because I don’t know if I ever will.”

It was only Ben’s arm around his waist that kept Michael from sinking to the floor; tears streamed down his face unrelentingly as he stared at the back of Brian’s head.  But as he opened his mouth to plead again, Debbie wrapped her arm around Brian’s back.  And as Michael watched, Brian leaned into Debbie slightly as his shoulders began to quiver.  Michael covered his mouth to hold back the moan of pain that wanted to bubble up from inside his stomach as Debbie glanced at him over the top of Brian’s bowed head and narrowed her eyes in silent warning.

Backing slowly out of the kitchen, Michael turned and stumbled towards the front door as Ben guided him with a gentle hand to his lower back.  And as his hand brushed the familiar doorknob, Michael heard Brian choke back the first sounds of suffering.  Looking back towards the kitchen, Michael saw the exact moment that Brian finally lost the battle he had been having with his feelings since learning the horrible truth about Justin, when his friend turned into his mother’s waiting arms and wept bitterly.


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Alex Wilder had a routine; he rose at five AM every weekday morning, and made himself a cup of strong, black coffee.  Jolted fully awake by the Italian brew, he would tug his running shoes on and run a half-dozen laps at the park across the street from his home.  His exercise dealt with, he would shower and dress for his day before drinking another cup of coffee with some fresh fruit and low-fat yogurt.  By seven AM he would be out the door and seated in his car; mind, body, and soul ready to face the day.  So, it was a little annoying to open his front door on Monday morning and find a man sitting on his doorstep.

“Excuse me,” Alex began, but then he could only stare as the man shifted his weight and turned his head so that his face was visible; Alex schooled his features, but he internally cursed Emmett when he found himself staring into the bloodshot eyes of Brian Kinney.

“Brian,” he said quietly and took a step back when Brian rose to his feet.  “Are you all right?” Alex asked, and when Brian glared at him, Alex sighed as he mentally said good-bye to his treasured routine, and gestured for Brian to enter his home.

Alex inhaled subtly when Brian walked passed him, and was relieved to not detect the scent of alcohol on the other man.  Closing the front door, Alex led Brian into his kitchen and gestured to the coffeemaker.

“Coffee?” he asked, and Brian grunted as he sat down at the island bench.

Alex allowed Brian to maintain his silence as he poured two cups of coffee.  Placing one in front of Brian, Alex nudged the sugar bowl across the counter, and took a sip of his own as Brian doctored his coffee with enough sugar to have caused a diabetic coma in most men.  It was only after Brian had taken a few sips of the potent brew that Alex set his cup down and raised his eyebrow.

“I won’t bother wasting either of our time; you’ve spoken to Emmett.”

Brian nodded, and carefully put his cup down.

“And Debbie,” he said finally as he spread his hands on the cold marble of the counter.   

“Then you know that I can’t discuss Justin’s sessions with you, Brian; he’s my patient, which makes him my first priority.  From what I had gathered, you were finished with the boy,” Alex said flatly, and ignored the way Brian flinched at the comment regarding the state of his relationship with Justin.  “So why are you here?”

Brian’s hands flexed slightly before he reached out to pick up his cup.  Cradling the warm porcelain in his hands, Brian kept his eyes lowered.

“Is… is he okay?” he finally asked, and Alex set his cup down with a gentle clink.

“I said that I won’t discuss Justin’s sessions with you, Brian,” Alex said firmly, and when Brian looked up at Alex, Alex swore softly when he saw the misery that was reflected back at him in Brian’s eyes.

“Doctor/patient confidentiality, Brian; there is a reason that it exists.  By law, I can discuss _parts_ of Justin’s therapy with his mother.  Who she chooses to talk about it with is beyond my control, but we have been cautious to keep Justin ignorant as to whom his mother talks to.  You know that I approached Emmett in the hope of helping Justin; what you _don’t_ know is that when I told Justin this, he had an _episode_ , as we like to call it, like I have never seen him experience before.  You think that you patented the term ‘ _pain management?_ ‘  You’ve got _nothing_ on him right now.  For Justin’s sake… if you once cared about him… let him go.  Go home, get on with your life, and let him get on with his.”

Brian swallowed slightly as Alex stared at him before he finally shook his head.

“I can’t…” he managed to say before his lips compressed slightly and he shook his head again as Alex sighed.

To Brian’s surprise, however, instead of asking him to leave, Alex picked the coffee pot back up and topped off both of their cups.  Walking around the counter, Alex sat beside Brian and ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his cup as he blew lightly on the hot liquid.

“What were you hoping to gain by coming here, Brian?” Alex finally asked as he sipped his coffee.  “You know I won’t discuss with you what Justin tells me during therapy.  I hope that you also know that I won’t divulge to you where he is now living or working.  To do so would undo months of gaining his trust, something that he has been hard-pressed to give.”

Turning in his seat to look at Brian, Alex finally shrugged as Brian struggled to form sentences.

“Is he okay?” Brian repeated after a few moments; those words covered everything he wanted to ask, every question that was swirling around in his mind like mist.

_Does he miss me?  Does he still love me?  Or does he hate me for letting him down?  Does he hear my voice in his head?  Do I drown out the hatefulness of Michael’s voice, or does mine cause him nightmares too?  Do I haunt him?  Does he see me out of the corner of his eye?  Does my voice echo in the silence of wherever the fuck it is he is living?  Does he wake up at night and reach for me like I reach for him?  Does tricking keep the loneliness at bay?  Does he seek out men who look like me?  Has he ever paid a hustler out of desperation?  Does he still follow the rules?  Has regret forced him out of the warmth of his mother’s home and into the cold of the morning to seek answers to the questions that keep him awake?  Why? **Why** did he do this? _

Forcing himself to meet Alex’s steady gaze, Brian openly flinched when Alex dropped his own gaze and shook his head slightly.

“No, Brian; he’s not okay,” Alex said finally.  “You know, when you came to me a while back, I should have insisted then that you bring Justin in for therapy.  Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“What do you mean?” Brian asked hoarsely, and Alex sighed again as he finished his cup of coffee.    

“Brian, when I’m with a patient, I can see the light inside of them.  Some people call it a soul; I call it the light of life.  But no matter what you call it, it glows behind our eyes.  You’ve seen that light spill out of Justin when he smiles; it’s blinding in its beauty.  And when people are in pain or mourning, that light dims.  The lantern that holds that light might be tarnished and badly needing care, so that the light can begin to gain strength as the person begins to heal.  It’s what makes my job so satisfying; to see that light flickering and growing until it glows at full strength again.”

Alex shoved his hands through his hair, and blowing out a harsh breath, he looked at Brian.

“But then you occasionally meet patients that are so damaged inside, that you can’t see their light when you look into their eyes.  They’re upright, and walking around.  They talk, and breathe, and do their jobs, and eat their dinner.  They dance, and see their friends, and they fuck, but when you look at them, they are nothing more than a shell.  The light inside of them is so low that you can’t detect a glimmer of it when they speak to you.  You can’t see the remnants of the lantern that held that light, due to the darkness that has consumed them.  All you see is the walking dead.  And _that_ is what Justin has become.”

Brian let out a shaky breath in the silence that followed, and Alex tilted his head as he watched Brian try, and ultimately fail, to process what he had been told.

“I told you when we spoke at Woody’s, Brian, to make Justin _feel_ his pain.  Until he processed what had happened to him and learned to deal with it, he was always going to feel isolated, unhappy, and alone.  Remember?  He wasn’t just the walking wounded, but the walking dead.  But he didn’t deal with that pain, Brian; he never faced it.  He was never allowed to _speak_ about it, so he buried it. 

“He went on with his life; fucking, and drinking, and putting up a front that he was the same boy he had once been before the Prom.  He walked through the next few months, biting back all the things he wanted and _needed_ to say.  Swallowing down _all_ the hurt that he felt, _ignoring_ the pain that he was in.  And all the while, that pain stewed inside of him.  It simmered along, layer upon layer as Justin swallowed down the things that hurt him on a fundamental level; it simmered until it festered, Brian, and became poisonous.  And when the pressure inside Justin became too much?  That poison spilled over, and it swallowed him whole.”

Alex licked his lips as he stared down at his hands.

“No doubt Debbie has told you that Justin thinks that you should have left him lying there in that garage; the boy you can remember before Prom, Brian?  He’s gone.  And he’s not coming back.  In his place is this beautiful creature of pure misery.  It’s this Justin that I am trying to reach, that I am trying to help.  It’s this Justin that keeps me awake in the middle of the night.  It’s this Justin that I am still scared that I’m losing.  He might look the same.  He might even sound the same.  But you don’t know this Justin, Brian.  And I’m sorry, but he doesn’t want to see _any_ of you.”

For a heartbeat, Brian thought he was going to be physically sick; Alex was looking at him, with pity showing clearly in his steady gaze.  But then Alex’s final words ran through his mind again, and he grasped onto the tiny thread of hope that sentence bought him.

“I know what Michael said to him,” Brian began hoarsely, and when Alex’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, the tiny thread of hope lengthened.

“I know what he said,” Brian repeated.  “But he’s _wrong_.  None of us would be better off if he died.  None of us are better off without him in our lives…”

Brian swallowed hard as he fought to gather the words that thickly coated his tongue, and summoning his courage, he pushed them out.

“ _I’m_ not better off, Alex… I’m not.  I know this is my fault… just like Prom was.”

Brian broke off when Alex held his hand up; he was shaking his head, and he reached out and grasped Brian’s shoulder tightly.

“This isn’t a blame game, Brian.  What Justin did is not your fault; just like Prom wasn’t your fault.  Should you have done things differently?  Yes.  _Fuck_ , yes.  We _both_ know it.  Justin had been teetering on the brink for a long while; Michael’s words were the final straw, and they tipped him over the edge.  Do I blame _Michael?_   Yes and no; he is a grown man who has an unhealthy obsession with you that results in him thinking that he has the right to dictate your life.  He has always viewed Justin as a threat, but even he couldn’t have known that his words would result in Justin trying to take his own life.”

Alex paused when Brian closed his eyes and flinched; Brian Kinney, the Stud of Liberty Avenue whose face was always a blank wall that kept the masses guessing, was gone at that moment.  The man who sat in his kitchen at five-thirty AM was unable to hide the pain that twisted his features at the mere thought of what Justin had done.  And in seeing that pain, Alex felt the first slow tendril of hope blossom and unfurl in his chest; it was unethical, and oh so wrong, but Alex wasn’t beyond using any avenue of assistance if it meant helping his patients.

“Brian…we never know what will tip a person over the edge,” he said quietly.  “In Justin’s case, it could have been anything.  After your break up, he was already in free fall and clinging to the brink of the cliff by his fingertips when he had that encounter with Michael.  It’s just sheer, bad luck that it was Michael’s words that had Justin let go of the edge and plummet.  But it’s also why Justin won’t allow any of the family back in _now_.  I honestly believe that Justin doesn’t want them to choose between Michael and himself, because he thinks that he won’t be picked.

“You have to remember, Brian, that Justin has been severely injured – he was fortunate that he didn’t _die_ after the bashing.  But it wasn’t only his hand that suffered permanent damage – his brain did, too.  And in suffering the brain injury, Justin’s ability to brush aside Michael’s spitefulness was gone.  Michael’s words struck a chord inside of Justin; so, instead of coming out swinging like he would have done at any other time when Michael was belittling him, they only served to reinforce Justin’s insecurities and to strengthen the walls that he has built around himself. 

“All we can do now is try to pull Justin’s walls down and get him out of the dark and back onto firm ground.  Because the other thing you have to understand is this; Justin’s _still_ in free fall – he hasn’t hit rock bottom yet.  And when he does, it’s going to be really unpleasant.  I can put all the safety nets I have beneath him to soften that fall, but I fear it may not be enough.  Justin is fighting me every step of the way, Brian – he just doesn’t believe anyone cares what he does.”

Brian shook his head slightly.

“I don’t understand,” Brian said quietly as he chewed on the edge of his bottom lip.  “Surely he knows how much everyone loves him...how much I…when did it start to go wrong?  What made him give up?  He fought tooth and nail to be with me, and then he just…”

Alex shook his head slightly when Brian broke off and sucked his lips into his mouth.

“I think, and remember, Brian, these are only _my_ thoughts, but I think that Justin believes that his love is toxic.”

“What do you mean?” Brian stammered as Alex licked his lips.

“I mean, that Justin believes that everyone that he loves will eventually turn against him.  He loved his father, but his father kicked him out when he was still a child.  He loved Daphne, but she changed the dynamics of their friendship when she asked Justin to be her first.  He loved your family, and they turned their backs on him without anyone uttering a single word in his defense.”

Alex looked at Brian for a long moment before he spoke quietly. 

“He loved you… and you publicly fucked the personification of his pain.”

Brian could only shake his head in dismay as Alex smiled wryly.

“I know you…defaced his artwork when he was creating the comic book with Michael.  I know that you set it right by reprinting all the hours of work that you had destroyed.  But did you _really_ think that made up for it, Brian?  You of all people should know how much he struggles to even _produce_ his art.  That struggle was made even worse because of the subject matter.  He was trying to deal with the bashing, in his own way; he told me that _no one_ would talk about it with him, that they shut him down repeatedly and told him that he had to get over it.  In creating this comic, he was trying to do that.  And you pissed all over it.  In Justin’s eyes, you pissed all over _him_ ; over _everything_ that he was struggling with and hurting over.  Reprinting the pages?  It meant _nothing_ to him, Brian.  It was just paper and computer ink.  Like him, the originals were gone, and in its place was a copy.  But instead of telling you this, he once again buried it. 

“You want to know when Justin stopped trying, the moment in which you began to lose him?  _That_ was the moment, Brian.  That’s when Justin looked at you and started to think that he meant nothing to you.  Then you ignored his birthday because you don’t celebrate birthdays, only achievements.  But was it not an achievement in your eyes that he survived to even _see_ another birthday?  And those are actually _Justin’s_ words, not mine.  It snowballed from there, Brian.  The final straw for your relationship was when you fucked Rage.

“I’m sure, that in _your_ eyes, you were fucking yourself.  Throwing Justin off the Kinney cliff and into Ethan’s waiting arms – all very self-sacrificing, because you could see that he wasn’t happy.  But in _Justin’s_ eyes, Brian, you weren’t doing that.  You cut him so deeply when you fucked the very image he had created in trying to deal with the bashing, that I fear it has damaged some integral part of him.  That’s why he left Babylon with Ethan that night.  That’s why he left _you_.  Because you relied too strongly on him to read your feelings, instead of hiding behind the great Kinney walls and being strong enough to tell him how you felt in actual words that he could understand.  So, he stopped trying.”

Brian could only wheeze out a breath of air as he stared at Alex.  Glancing at his watch, Alex rose after patting Brian on the shoulder.

“Now, you have two choices here, Brian, and then I really must ask you to go, or I’m going to run horribly late for work.  Choice one – go home, forget about Justin, and go back to being Brian _fucking_ Kinney.  Go and fuck every ass you come across.  You’ll live your life; you’ll drink and take drugs and never again form another meaningful relationship.  And one day, you’ll die.  Alone.  And on that day, you’ll wonder what the hell had you done with your life.”

“And choice two?” Brian managed, and Alex smiled slightly.   

“Ah, that’s the harder choice.  But I need to ask you a question before I present that choice to you, Brian.  Are you willing to answer that question?”

Brian swallowed hard and tilted his head slightly.  Alex narrowed his eyes and leaned into Brian’s space.  And when he spoke, his tone demanded nothing but honesty.

“Do you love him?” 

The words wouldn’t come; unlike Debbie who had taken his silence as an answer, Alex was asking him to use his ‘actual words’. 

“Yes.”

It came out strangled, and barely audible.  And when Alex tilted his head and stared at him unflinchingly, Brian wondered if he would even be able to recognize himself when it was all over.  

“Is he worth fighting for?”

Brian could only nod, and Alex pursed his lips before he spoke.

“Choice two means going home, having a shower, and going to work.  It means having to examine the how’s and why’s of where your relationship with Justin went wrong.  It means having to examine all aspects of your life, to make certain that this never happens again.  It means tearing yourself open and seeing what is inside of yourself, without knowing in the end if Justin will even come back to you.  It means hanging on, Brian, after he’s already let go.  So again, I ask; is he _worth_ fighting for?  Do you love him enough to fight for him?  Because that is what this will be.  A fight to rewire Justin’s thinking.  To show him that his thought processes are _wrong_.  That he is loved and wanted and _needed_.  It’s a fight to save his life, Brian.  His life, and ultimately, your own.”

Squeezing Brian’s shoulder, Alex glanced at his watch again and gestured towards his front door.

“I _really_ have to insist, Brian, that if you want to talk further, you make an appointment and see me during business hours.  Take the time to think about what we have discussed this morning.  And let me know, if you decide to go with choice one.  If you do, there will be no further harm coming to Justin from you and your family, simply because I won’t tell him that we have discussed this.  But if choice two is your decision?  Then I’ll do my best to help you help _him_.”

Brian stood up and followed Alex to the front door; pausing on the threshold, Alex glanced at Brian.

“I won’t lie to you, Brian – this won’t be easy.  He won’t make it easy for you like he did when you were first together.  For the first time in your life, you are going to have to chase after someone who is going to run for cover the minute they lay eyes on you.  You are going to have to use your words, rather than fuck him through the mattress to convey to him how you feel.  You are going to have to get to know the new Justin, and you are going to have to allow him to know _you;_ not the public persona you have shown every fag on Liberty, but the man who hides inside – the _man_ who went to Justin’s Prom.  So take your time to think about your choices.”

Brian nodded silently and slipped out into the early morning light.  Alex watched as Brian tucked his hands into his pockets and walked away with a lowered head.  As Brian vanished into the park, Alex closed his door and wondered if he was strong enough as a therapist to even help the two men find their way back to one another, or if he was just setting them up for further pain.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey guys, I hope this finds you all well. I'm heading off for Christmas with my family in the morning, so I wanted to get this posted tonight so that I could wish those of you who celebrate, a very Merry Christmas. I hope you all enjoy your day, and I'll think of you all as I eat seafood, and drink cold beer and sweat my ass off under the Aussie sun, lol! Seriously though, stay safe, and enjoy the moment - I know I will. Much love, Kerri. xx

7. 

Daphne tugged her keys out of her pocket and carefully opened the front door with her right hand while balancing the tray of coffees in her left.  How Justin had once managed to do this on a daily basis at the diner without dropping shit left, right, and center was beyond her; she struggled with the coffees and opening their front door!  Nudging her bag through the open door with her foot, she let out a breath when she was able to set the carrier down on the small table inside the door, which she closed and locked behind her. 

Daphne looked about the small apartment she shared with Justin as she hung her coat up; it was bright and cheerful thanks to the eclectic assortment of knickknacks she and Justin had collected over the last three months.  Retrieving the coffees, she walked through the living room and headed down the short corridor to Justin’s room; nudging open the door, Daphne let her eyes adjust to the dark room before heading towards the bed.

She and Justin had hung a thick blanket across the window to block out all light when Justin had first moved in; his migraines had come back in full force that first month, and they had left the blanket up just in case another one should occur.  Even the slightest hint of light could leave him feeling like Chris Hobbs had just smashed his skull in with a baseball bat again.  So, while the dark was great for his headaches, it could make navigating the mess of his room a total bitch.

Stepping over his sneakers, and skirting around a tangled pair of jeans, Daphne sank down onto the edge of Justin’s bed with a sigh as she placed the coffee carrier down on the nightstand.  She loved living with Justin - he was easier to get along with than her last roommate had been - and he tended to keep his mess contained in his room.  The only thing she didn’t love about living with Justin was rousing him after he had worked late – he tended to wake up grumpy, but she had learned when they had been younger how to deal with _that_ charming trait of his: Grande-sized coffee cups.  

Justin was an unmoving lump under the blankets; reaching out, Daphne snagged the edge of the duvet and tugged it back slightly.  The sight that greeted her had Daphne biting back her laughter, but she couldn’t contain the broad smile that crossed her face.  Justin was sleeping on his stomach; blond hair heavily tousled and half covering his face, he snored lightly even as his nose wrinkled, and he began to pat the mattress as he searched for the edge of the cover that Daphne had pulled away.

Daphne grinned when he found it and promptly pulled it back over his head, and she laughed softly.  She heard the soft mumble that was muffled, and gently tugged the blankets back enough to slip into the bed when he rolled onto his side.  She had sufficient time to see sleepy blue eyes peering at her before Justin pulled the bedding up over their heads and tugged her into his arms.  Knowing their routine, Daphne rolled over and wiggled back into the curve of Justin’s body as he closed his arms around her.

It was warm and dark, and Daphne ignored the morning wood that poked at the curve of her ass; she had slept in the same bed with Justin more in the last three months than the previous sixteen years, and had grown accustomed to the way Justin needed to cuddle in the mornings.  Besides… he might be a man before he was gay, but just like when you dropped a container of glitter on the carpet, the fact that he _was_ gay was never gonna go away!!

Daphne huffed out a soft sound of laughter at the thought; she had told Justin that one afternoon, and had made reference to how his blonde hair, slim build, and foul temper reminded her of _another_ small fairy.  That nickname had been struck from her lips forever when Justin had pinned her down and tickled her until she threatened to pee all over him.   The memory still made her grin, and when Justin snuggled in closer to her and buried his face in her hair, she giggled again.

“What are you laughing about?  It’s _early_ …” he mumbled, and Daphne grinned when she heard the pout he no doubt was wearing clearly being broadcast through the petulant tone of his voice.

“Nothing, Tinkerbell,” she said under her breath, and then bit back a squeal when Justin dug his fingers warningly into her ribs.  “Sorry!  Shit, sorry, I’m sorry!”  She’d forgotten that he had the hearing of a bat, and when his fingers relaxed back over her stomach, Daphne settled into the comfort of his embrace.

They lay there in companionable silence; while Ethan and Sam were brilliant at pulling Justin out of his funk and making him talk things through, it was always Daphne that he sought physical comfort from.  He had formed the habit of either pulling her into _his_ bed for morning cuddles if he had slept well the night before, or crawling into _her_ bed in the middle of the night when he had a nightmare. 

Daphne hid the wince that wanted to make her body twitch; she might have lost this side of Justin if she hadn’t pulled her head out of her ass while they were still in high school.  Never again would she mistake the difference between the love they shared as friends, and the romantic love she had momentarily wanted from him.  Even _thinking_ about that period of insanity made her blush.  Forcing it from her mind, she trailed her fingertips lightly over Justin’s hand and spoke softly.

“What are your plans for today?”

Justin huffed in annoyance, but answered the question regardless.

“School.  Class at eleven.  Lunch with Ethan and Sam at two.  Class at three.  Then nothing.  Lather, rinse, and repeat.”   

Daphne laughed softly, and when Justin loosened his arms, she rolled over so that they were facing each other.  Reaching out, she gently drew the tip of her finger down the bridge of his nose, and when Justin opened his eyes only to have them promptly cross when she re-stroked his nose, Daphne started laughing when he batted her hand away from his face.

“Piss off, Daph,” he growled, and Daphne grinned when he snapped his teeth at her when she tapped the tip of his nose.

“Tell me something good,” Justin whispered after a while, and Daphne reached for his hand and laced their fingers together.

His question had become part of their morning routine, no matter whose bed they were in.  Sometimes Daphne would tell him something funny in an effort to coax a smile onto his face.  Other times, she told him something helpful to remind him that there was light in the darkness that surrounded him.  Hidden in the safety of their respective beds, under the warm darkness of their blankets, Daphne could see that Justin was trying to fight his way back every day; this was her way of helping him do that.

“I got hit on at the coffee shop this morning,” Daphne confessed, and when Justin raised his eyebrow in question, she grinned.  “By an absolutely gorgeous guy; shiny brown hair, striking blue eyes, and a matching set of dimples.  He told me that I was _really_ pretty, and asked me if I would like to bite his cookie?” 

Justin snickered in response, and when Daphne snorted, he shook his head.

“His pickup line could use some work,” Justin murmured, and Daphne shrugged.

“Oh, I dunno; I told him that when he got out of diapers to come and take me out on a date.  He said that if Dora wasn’t available, he’d take me to Chucky Cheese.  He figured that he should be potty trained by the time he was three.”

For a half a minute, Justin’s face creased in confusion; but his husky laughter echoed between them as Daphne’s final comment made sense.  But even as he laughed, she could see the sadness that dulled his eyes, and she mentally kicked herself when she realized that by bringing up the cute kid, she had made him think of Gus, and indirectly, Brian.

Gus was the one person that Justin missed without question; he had fallen head over heels in love with the little boy, and would spend hours lying on his stomach drawing portraits of him – with perfectly detailed eyelashes and the curve of his chin, Justin’s drawings had shown just how much Gus looked like his father.  Even now, even after leaving drawings of Brian and his family behind him, there would be days where Daphne would come home and find Justin drawing that innocent face, while pain seeped out of his body like a physical entity.    

Rolling out of bed, Daphne reached for the two coffees, and as he pushed the blankets away and rose onto his elbow, she handed Justin his without further comment.  There was no need – Justin mumbled his thanks and then moaned as he took a small taste of the caramel mocha.  Sipping her own coffee, Daphne regarded Justin silently; although there was a sleepy pout on his face, his eyes were clear this morning.  There wasn’t any evidence of disturbed sleep, and Daphne relaxed slightly.

“You got any plans tonight?” Justin asked, and Daphne shook her head slightly.  

“Just a date with the books for a while after dinner,” she said, and Justin grimaced.

“Dating a book doesn’t get you laid, Daph,” he said, and when the corner of his lips curved slightly, Daphne smiled back at him when he tucked his hair behind his ear and peered up at her.

“Sam’s playing at a bar on campus if you wanna come,” Justin said finally.  “Maybe we could listen to a set or two, and then go dancing; we both have late classes tomorrow, and I’m not working tonight.”

Daphne smiled as Justin reached out and toyed with her fingertips; when Justin went dancing on his own, it always ended with him in tears after he spent the night fucking and being fucked.  But when he went out with Daphne, he didn’t go looking for tricks.  Oh, they always found _him_ , but Daphne couldn’t remember a time since they had moved in together that Justin had left her on the dance floor to go and get his dick sucked.

“Will Sam and Ethan be joining us?” she asked, and Justin shrugged as he nudged her off his bed and rose to his feet.

“Dunno; I’ll ask them at lunch.”

Daphne nodded as Justin picked his drink up and moved towards the living room.  Following him, Daphne watched as Justin slumped down onto the couch and lit a smoke.  Leaving him to enjoy his first hit of nicotine, Daphne headed into the kitchen; Justin sighed when she returned to his side and handed him his pills.  She watched as he stared at the tablets that lay in the center of his palm, before he blew out a helpless sounding breath. 

There were two different tablets for his allergies.  An anti-spasmodic for the tremors in his hand.  Two multivitamin capsules, because, hello!  Justin needed all the help he could get when he ate Pop Tarts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and considered it a well-rounded meal.  And as Daphne watched him, he nudged the tablets around until he was staring down at the much-hated antidepressant.  Raising his eyes to meet her steady gaze, Justin’s lips settled into an unhappy line.

“Justin… we’ve been over this,” Daphne said gently, and Justin frowned but popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them down without comment.

It was only when his gaze slid back to hers that Daphne smiled and held up both hands.

“Strawberry or brown sugar?” she asked, brandishing the Pop Tarts in question, and Justin wrinkled his nose.

“No chocolate or caramel?” he asked, and when Daphne grimaced, he deliberately pouted until she laughed and nodded.

“Which one, you big baby?” she asked, and Justin tilted his head thoughtfully as he absently rubbed his stomach.

“One of each,” he said finally, and when Daphne turned towards the cupboard to put the other boxes away, Justin called her name quickly.

“Daph?  One of _each_ , yeah?”

When Daphne’s jaw dropped, Justin shrugged sheepishly.

“I’m hungry,” he said by way of explanation.

For the first time in a long time, when Daphne’s bright laughter lit up the kitchen, she heard the huskier tones of Justin’s laughter joining with hers, and it was the sweetest melody she had ever heard.  Shaking her head, Daphne set about toasting the four different Pop Tarts as she quickly blinked back the tears that threatened to form.

She didn’t care that she would be feeling sick within the hour after the sugar-laden breakfast she shared with Justin hit her stomach.  Justin couldn’t see it yet, but she had the feeling that the antidepressants were beginning to work.  She couldn’t remember the last time Justin had asked for this many Pop Tarts – she usually had to fight him to even eat one.  And as the scent of artificial strawberry perfumed the air, Daphne thought that the future was beginning to smell sweeter than it had in a long time.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Justin stared at the painting before him as he nibbled at the corner of his lip.  He had thought long and hard about what Ethan had said to him last night while they were in the studio, and he found that he did still believe in romance and love.  Not for himself, but for other people; the thought of opening himself up to a person made him feel physically ill.  But for other people… Ethan and Sam were an example of that love; while they were both musicians and they were both brunets, they were as different as night and day.

Ethan lived, breathed, and bled classical music.  Justin had seen him play until his hands cramped and he could no longer hold the violin.  He loved to compose new music, and his talent was so great that Justin had found himself listening to and enjoying the sounds that Ethan could produce with his bow.  With his curly hair and dark, brooding eyes, Ethan would look tragically beautiful on his CD covers when they eventually came out.

But Ethan’s music and violin weren't all there was to the boy; Ethan had a very dry sense of humor, and came across as condescending until you got to know him.  He was kind and loyal and loved his friends without limit. He loved romance, and Justin had shared in many a floor picnics during their friendship.  It had been Ethan’s idea for Justin to prepare a picnic at home in an effort to talk to Brian when things had really started to get to him.

Justin snorted softly as he continued to look at the painting.  Ethan had told him back then to go home and prepare to be honest with Brian – to admit to him how unhappy he was, and that he was thinking about seeing someone through school regarding the bashing.  They both knew how _that_ idea had turned out – Brian had turned him down flat before Justin could even open his mouth.  When Ethan had seen him the following day, and Justin had told him what had happened, he hadn’t been able to apologize enough.

Licking his lips absently, Justin added a hint of white paint to the canvas before turning his thoughts to Sam.  If Ethan was the day, then Sam was most definitely the night.  While Ethan played his violin with remarkable talent, Sam could coax the most beautiful sounds out of his guitar.  Multitalented, he could and did play both acoustic and electric guitar with a skill that would lead him to world tours; yet he could also coax the most mournful sounds out of a piano too.  All that musical talent, and that was _before_ he even opened his mouth.

Ethan often joked that God had been in such awe of creating Sam that he forgot to give Ethan the same vocal ability that Sam had when he sang.  Deep and raspy, Sam held the audience in the palm of his hand when he sang on stage with the band he had formed since attending PIFA.  Dark hair that he tended to wear in messy waves, bright green eyes, and covered in a dizzying array of grey wash tattoos, Sam was not only talented, but he was gorgeous to look at, too.

He was fairly laid back and relaxed, but underneath that calm demeanor, Sam had a filthy temper that was quick to ignite when he felt that one of his friends was being hurt.  He was generous with his time and generous with his talent, often volunteering at the Aids Hospice and singing acoustically to bring those who were suffering some comfort.  He was the one who pulled Ethan back down to Earth when his lover got too full of himself, while Ethan himself encouraged Sam to strive for greatness.

And while their separate friends didn’t always get along, Sam and Ethan continued to work at their relationship; their threesome with Justin was a testament to that.  Rather than allow their mutual attraction to Justin to sow discord between them, they had been able to sit down together and talk about it.  Instead of jealousy and miscommunication, they had agreed to talk it out with Justin and come to some sort of mutually satisfying conclusion. And it had been all that and more.

Justin smiled fondly at the memory and sank down onto his stool to look at the painting he had roughed out.  Sam’s Fender electric guitar dominated the canvas; the black-and-blue guitar was Sam’s most prized possession, and while it was Sam’s guitar that Justin had painted, it was Ethan’s hands holding the neck of the guitar, and drawing his bow across the strings.

Pleased with how the painting was coming along, Justin carefully set the canvas aside to dry before he cleaned up his workstation.  Glancing up at the clock on the studio wall, Justin swore softly when he saw that it was already past two o’clock.  He was supposed to be meeting Ethan and Sam for lunch now; huffing out a sound of impatience, Justin hurried to finish cleaning up.  The boys would no doubt come looking for him, and he hoped to head them off before they left the dining hall. 

Grabbing his jacket and pulling it on as he left the studio, Justin tugged his beanie down over his ears as he hunched his shoulders against the cold wind and headed across campus towards the dining room.  His messenger bag bounced against his thigh as he walked briskly, and all he could think about was a bowl of hot soup that would hopefully melt some of the ice that threatened to form on his nose.  Intent on thoughts of food and warmth, he didn’t see the body crossing his path until he collided with it.

Firm hands grasped his upper arms and kept him upright on his feet; that almost changed when Justin registered that he was being touched by an unknown person, and he took a quick breath to settle his nerves as he looked up with the intent to apologize.  The apology died unspoken on his lips, however, when he saw the hesitant look on Michael’s face. 

“Hey, Justin,” Michael said softly, dropping his hands when Justin wrenched away from him and stepped out of his reach.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, in which Michael tried to convey with his eyes how sorry he was as Justin stared at him.  But then Justin exhaled a harsh breath and stepped around him without comment.  He had only taken a few steps when Michael turned around and called out after him, his desperation causing his voice to rise to an unnatural level towards the end.

“Justin… do you, uh, maybe want to get a cup of coffee?  Maybe we can… uh, talk?”

Turning back to face him, Justin shook his head as he stared at the other man. 

“What’s there to talk about?” he asked coldly; shifting the weight of his bag on his shoulder, Justin jerked his thumb in the direction he had been heading.  “My friends are waiting for me.”

“We were your friends, too, Justin,” Michael reminded him quietly, causing Justin to snort.

“You’re _his_ friend, Michael; you were _never_ mine,” Justin said flatly. 

“I _was_ your friend, Justin!” Michael insisted as Justin started to turn away.  He took a step back when Justin laughed in disbelief as he swung to face him, anger clearly shining in his eyes.

“Bullshit, Michael!  The last time I read up on friendship, nowhere in that book did it say that it was okay to betray your friends!  I don’t remember reading the chapter that stated that it was okay to tell your friends that you wished they were dead!”

Michael shook his head frantically as he took a couple of steps towards Justin.

“I didn’t mean it, Justin, I swear to God, I never meant it!” Michael cried, and when he reached out to touch Justin, the blond stepped out of his reach again. 

“You are such a _liar!”_ Justin snarled, and when Michael reached out imploringly again, Justin slapped his hands away.  “Don’t fucking touch me!  I swear to God, Michael, if you put your hands on me, I’ll snap them off and stuff them up your ass!”

Michael wisely put his hands down, but he took another step towards Justin.  He had to make Justin understand.  

“Please, Justin, I was wrong!   About Ethan!  I was wrong!  I _know_ that now…BRIAN knows that now!”

 “Oh, and that makes it all better?” Justin snapped.  “What do you expect me to _do_ here, Michael?  Huh?  Roll over and wait with my ass in the air, just because you know the _truth?_  And just what truth _is_ that exactly? _”_

“We know what you tried to do…how you ended up in the hospital!  Brian was so upset, Justin!  How could you _do_ that to him?” Michael cried, and then abruptly fell silent when Justin’s eyes blazed.

“So, let me get this straight,” Justin began, in a voice that trembled with undiluted rage.  “ _You_ played judge, jury, and executioner; _you_ took the opportunity to get me out of your lives, something you had been trying to do since the first time he took me home and fucked me.  _You_ decided that I was guilty of _cheating_ on a man who stuck his dick in someone else on almost a daily basis; something that _you_ took great pleasure in shoving in my face at every opportunity!  And instead of asking _me_ about what you saw, you went behind my back and told _him_ that I was… what?  Having some grand, fucking affair?”

“I knew about the rules,” Michael said miserably, as he twisted his hands.  “I knew that you had told Brian not to kiss anyone but you on the mouth, and I saw you… I saw Ethan kissing you…. and…”

“And what?” Justin hissed as he took a step towards Michael.  “He agreed to the no kissing tricks, Michael.  It didn’t stop him kissing _you_ in greeting.”

“Brian’s my…”

“Yeah, yeah, your _best friend_ ,” Justin interrupted, and Michael winced when he heard the scorn in Justin’s voice.  “So, because it’s _him_ , the rules are different?  You told me about his tricking, to remind me of how _little_ I meant to him, to hurt me as often as you could.  But you see my _friend_ kissing me, and suddenly I’m, what?  In love with someone else?  Oh, I remember…I’m cheating!  You had to _save_ your very best friend from the ungrateful twink that was ruining his fucking life!  It didn’t matter that you were wrong!  It didn’t matter to _you_ what the truth was, or how _he_ would react to what you had told him…”

Justin swallowed as a frown crossed his face, and he licked his suddenly dry lips as he shook his head to clear it.  It must have taken him a minute or two longer than he thought, because when he opened his eyes, Michael was standing right in front of him; his hands were surprisingly gentle as they gripped Justin’s, even as Michael’s voice was verging on pure panic as he called Justin’s name.

“Are you all right?” Michael urged as Justin stared at him silently.  “You’re as white a ghost… do you have a headache?  Do you need to sit down?”

Justin slowly and deliberately withdrew his hands from Michael’s and took a step back from him before he spoke in a voice that was devoid of any emotion.

“Don’t pretend you care, Michael… don’t act like you give a shit.  Because if you did?  You would have asked me what was going on with Ethan in plain terms, rather than assuming the worst of me.  You would have asked me if I had anywhere to go after I left him, instead of shutting me out; I could have been living on the streets for all you cared.  You wouldn’t have told me that you wished I had died in that parking garage. 

“That was three months ago, Michael, and your entire family has ignored me ever since.  You don’t get to come here now, and act like nothing happened just because you feel _guilty_.  You don’t get to approach me as if the last three months hadn’t happened.  You made your choice the night of the Rage launch, Michael; you _all_ did.  You wished I would disappear… that I would do you all a favor and vanish out of your lives.  So, I have.”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, only to freeze when Justin stepped closer to him; so close, that the warmth of his breath kissed Michael’s face gently even as Michael stared into the iciness of Justin’s eyes.

“Now _fucking_ live with it.”

Justin stared into Michael’s eyes; he saw that his message had been sent and received when Michael openly flinched, and allowed a cold smile to curve his lips, before he turned his back on Michael and walked away.   Michael could only stand there with his heart beating an staccato rhythm in his chest.  He had ignored what his mother had said about approaching Justin and had come to PIFA to apologize to him so that he could make things right with Brian.  But as he watched the blond walk away with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched, Michael feared that he had just made things so much worse.


	8. Chapter 8

Brian ignored the buzz that announced he had visitors, and continued to stare at the computer screen.  He had taken Alex’s advice and headed home for a shower; instead of going to work, however, he had done something he never did and called in sick.  After that, he had crawled naked into bed and fallen into a restless sleep that had been disturbed by dreams; Brian had woken to lingering memories of tear-stained cheeks and wounded, blue eyes.

The dreams had been so realistic that before he had even opened his eyes, he had reached for the slim body that slept beside him; even now, hours later, he could still taste the remembered sweetness of Justin’s lips on his tongue.  The temptation to dive head first into a bottle of Beam had hit him hard when his hand had encountered crisp sheets instead of warm skin, but he had reached for coffee instead.

Now at nearly three in the afternoon he sat back and rubbed his eyes.  He had spent the last several hours reading up on clinical depression; he had devoured page after page of information.  As he sank back into his chair, he wondered how he could have missed it when it had been staring him in the face the whole time.  Like Deb, he had put Justin’s mood swings down to aftereffects of the bashing, or him just being a brat.  But with the information now seared into his brain, he knew that he was wrong.

Justin’s behavior had included not wanting to go out anymore; instead, he had pleaded several times for them to just stay in for the night.  Brian rolled his lips into his mouth as he recalled the very last time Justin had asked him to stay in.  He had prepared a fancy spread on the floor, and had greeted Brian with determination and hope shining clearly in his eyes; he had tried several times to convince Brian to stay home that night - just this once. 

But Brian had come home in a filthy mood; he wanted nothing more than to go to Babylon and have his cock sucked before taking his frustration out on some anonymous ass.  Brian swallowed as he thought back to how he had treated Justin’s attempt to what he had felt at the time was romance – his sarcasm had cut Justin deeply, and before Brian had left, the hope and determination that had been glowing so clearly in Justin’s eyes had been replaced with bitter defeat.

The thought crossed his mind and lingered when he thought back to the picnic; he had come back home after a less-than-satisfying blowjob, and an unfilled, anonymous fuck to an empty loft and no sight of Justin.  There had just been the lingering fragrance of burned out candles, and the food Justin had so carefully purchased now thrown in the bin. Why had Justin pleaded with him to stay home that night?  It had been the very next evening that Brian had scented stale sex on Justin – that had been the beginning of their end.

Other symptoms that Justin had shown included relying on alcohol and sedatives to sleep, not participating in activities he had once loved doing (tricking with Brian at Babylon – enjoying the chase and the game together, before going home and fucking their brains out), and being unable to concentrate on his schoolwork.  He had become closed off and withdrawn from the family, too – all symptoms of depression.

Then there were his feelings; becoming easily overwhelmed, whether it be by his school work, or his job at the diner.  Feelings of guilt, his lack of confidence in all aspects of his life.  How easily irritated he had become, his frustration erupting into mood swings that swung from despair to outright anger in the blink of an eye.  Dragging his hands down over his face, Brian shook his head.  Justin had been so noticeably unhappy, and Brian had disregarded it – at the time, he had thought Justin had been asking for too much, but really, what had the boy been asking for?  A mere hint that he was more than just a fuck?  Brian winced; he hadn’t even been able to give Justin that.

Skimming his eyes down the current page he was reading, Brian swore softly when he saw the thoughts that had no doubt echoed through Justin’s head according to the experts; **‘I’m a failure.’  ‘I’m not good enough.’  ‘It’s my fault.’  ‘People would be better off without me.’**   Brian slammed his eyes shut, only to see Justin lying in a spreading pool of his own blood while Brian’s desperate screams had echoed through the garage.

_“Brian… in one of his very first sessions with Alex, Justin had said that he_ _had been told we would’ve been better off if you’d just left him lying there; he said the person who told him that was probably right.”_   Blowing out an unsteady breath, Brian tried his best to ignore Debbie’s whispered confession and the burning anger that he felt towards Michael as he continued reading.

Physical symptoms could and had included being tired all the time, being sick and run down, suffering headaches, and muscle pains.  Then there were the problems that Justin had sleeping.  And from the glimpse that Brian had seen of Justin yesterday, there had definitely been significant weight loss, which showed that there had been a loss or change of appetite.  Cold, hard facts written in black and white that showed Brian how utterly he had failed the boy, resulting in the desperate step that Justin had taken to make his pain stop.

Brian was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard someone knocking on the loft door; only two other people had keys to his building now, and as he climbed to his feet, he tried to ignore the memory of finding Justin’s keys sitting by his answering machine as he rolled the door open.  But when he saw Michael standing on the other side, he scowled and began to pull the door shut again.  Michael’s hand shot out, and he gripped the door, all the while staring at Brian with pleading eyes.

“Please, Brian… I _need_ to talk to you,” he said quietly, and Brian shook his head.

“I’m not ready to listen to you make excuses, Michael; I’m having a hard enough time not making my own,” Brian said flatly.

Michael swallowed hard, a jerking motion of his throat that was accompanied by a slight ducking of his chin as he acknowledged the harsh truth of Brian’s words.

“I know that,” he said finally.  “But I… _shit_ , you’re already angry with me!  But this is going to make you so fucking mad, that I’m scared to even say it…”

“Say what?” Brian said, and when Michael hesitated, Brian’s face darkened with anger.  “Say. What, Michael!  What could possibly be _worse_ than telling my lover that you wished he had _died_?  What could you say or do that is worse than _that_?”

“I went to see him,” Michael blurted out and then yelped when Brian grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and forcibly yanked him inside the loft.

Staring up into the angry eyes of the man he had known for so long, Michael was shocked to find that Brian looked like he was going to be sick.  Rage was noticeably warring with desperation in the hazel eyes that he knew so well, and Michael held his hands up in a placating manner as Brian stared at him.  It was only when Brian swallowed convulsively that Michael turned around and headed towards the couch.  Sinking into the beautiful Italian leather, he linked his hands between his spread knees and shook his head helplessly.

“I should have just listened to Ma last night when she told us not to approach Justin; I went there, Brian, thinking that if I just apologized to him, if I told him that we all knew the truth, that _you_ knew the truth, that he’d come back to you.  To us.  I mean, he’d followed you around like a faithful puppy for nearly two years, you know?  You only had to crook your finger, and he was tripping over himself in his rush to get to you.  I went to him, thinking I would find the same person.  The same Justin he had always been.”

Michael shook his head again despondently as Brian stared at him silently.

“It was like talking to a complete stranger, Brian; he was so closed off… so fucking angry.  He didn’t want to hear a word that I said… he had an argument for _every_ word that came out my mouth.”

“What did he…”

Brian broke off and compressed his lips to keep the words inside his mouth as Michael looked up at him.  Michael stared at him for a minute before he shrugged and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

“He called me out on what I had said and done; he told me that I had played judge, jury, and executioner with him.  When I told him that you knew, he asked me what I wanted him to do...just roll over with his ass in the air?  Like he thought that we believed that was all he was good for.  He said we had made our choice three months ago when this all happened; he said we had to live with that choice now.”

Dragging his hands down over his face, Michael laughed bitterly when he saw how badly his hands were shaking as Brian continued to stare at him, torn between wanting the information that Michael was giving him, and tossing his oldest friend head first out of the loft.

“Even after he was bashed, Brian, Justin never shied away from my touch when he was close to having a meltdown, and you weren’t there,” Michael said finally.  “Not after the very first time that he came to Woody's looking for you.  He told me today that if I touched him, he’d break my hands off.  The one time I did, he looked like he was going to vomit when he realized I was holding his hands.”

“ _Why_ did you touch him?” Brian asked as he took a step closer to Michael, and Michael shrugged.

“He went all funny on me; I thought he was going to faint or something, so I reached out to hold his hands.  It was like he disappeared into his own head, and whatever he was thinking about or seeing left him shaking and as white as a ghost.  I called his name a couple of times, and I was squeezing his hands gently the way we had been shown after the bashing when he opened his eyes.  He was standing right in front of me, Brian, and his eyes were open, and he was talking, but the look in his eyes… that scared me more than anything.  He was just… _gone_ … there was absolutely nothing in his eyes that made Ma call him Sunshine.”

Brian sank down onto the couch beside Michael with his lips sucked firmly into his mouth as Michael frowned.

“What were you talking about when it happened?” Brian finally asked, and Michael blew out a deep breath.

“We weren’t talking, Brian; Justin was too busy flaying me alive to actually _talk_.  Three months… hell, _eighteen months_ of resentment and held back words just came flooding out.  He was saying that I hadn’t cared about the truth of what I had seen.  That I hadn’t asked him what was going on with Ethan when I saw them in the street that day.  He said I hadn’t cared about how you would react to being told that he was cheating; that’s when he went all funny.”

Unwittingly, Brian looked over his shoulder behind where they were sitting on the couch; shaking his head, he tried to clear the images he could see, but they still played out in crystal clarity.  He knew what Justin had meant; it had been the night that Justin had come home, smelling of another man.  And Brian’s anger and jealousy had all but swallowed the boy whole.

_“Go shower.  You stink.”_

Dabbing the middle of his top lip with his tongue, Brian shook his head slightly.  He hadn’t stuck around that night; but after standing up, he could remember the sound of Justin scrabbling to his feet and fleeing to the bathroom.  The slam of the door and the sound of the lock being thrown had sounded shotgun loud over the hammering of Brian’s heart.  But he had left the loft, and he didn’t know what Justin had done between him going, and coming home several hours later.

In all the times he had touched Justin, never had he touched him in anger before.  Oh, they had had rough fucks in the past; fucks where Brian had tied Justin to his bed and left the boy a shaking mess who was incoherent beyond pleading for more.  Fucks where it had been fast and frantic with their pants barely down to mid-thigh before Brian was bending the boy over and burying himself balls deep.  But Justin had never before looked at him with fear in his eyes like he had that night.

“Brian?”

Brian shook his head to clear it and glanced at Michael who was staring at him with a questioning look on his face.

“You were fine when I told you about Justin and Ethan at Babylon…weren’t you?” Michael asked hesitantly, and Brian huffed out the sound of bitter laughter when Michael suddenly moaned softly as the color drained from his face.

“Oh, God, Brian… I am _so_ fucking sorry,” Michael cried.  “You said you didn’t _care_ when we spoke about it; you said he could do what he wanted…. You didn’t actually mean it, though…did you?”

Brian shook his head as the pressure inside of him built up rapidly and finally exploded as anger and regret collided.

“For _years_ , Michael, I just didn’t give a fuck!  One fuck only; no repeats, no apologies, no regrets, right?  Well, I fucked him more than once the _first_ night… I’m surprised he could even walk the next day!  And I went after his ass at _every_ opportunity after that; oh, it was well concealed.  _Justin_ was the one chasing _me,_ right?  The one who wouldn’t go away…  My teen stalker…”

Brian rose from the couch in agitation as Michael stared at him with his mouth hanging open.   

“This seventeen-year-old twink that wouldn’t know his ass from his feet wore _me_ down?”  Brian laughed bitterly, as he recalled Justin’s open enthusiasm for everything that Brian had taught him those first few months.  “Bullshit!  I was dragging him home and _back_ into my bed at every opportunity!  Yeah, I had him in the jeep and at Babylon and the diner and Deb’s, and at every other place I could, but it was _here_ that I wanted him… in my bed, where I could take my time; where I could teach him every trick I knew, and some _I_ hadn’t even learned yet.  Regrets?  I’ve got ‘em now, Michael!  Apologies?  Owe him those too!”

_“Go shower.  You stink.”_

Brian bit back the moan that wanted to bubble up when his own voice whispered through the air; filled with anger and revulsion, Brian closed his eyes and once again saw Justin’s expressive eyes staring up at him as desire fled and left the ugliness of fear in its place.  Christ, could he have been any more of a hypocrite?

“You want to know how I reacted that night, Michael?” he asked finally.  “I came home, and I waited for him… I sat here drinking, and stewing on the fact that _my_ boy was out doing _exactly_ what I had taught him to do: fuck who you want, whenever you want.  He was _happy_ when he came home!  Happy to have had his fuck for the night, and even happier to see me here…”

Brian broke off and shook his head as he bit his bottom lip.  He was unable to voice what had happened after that, but he was beginning to realise that his words and actions had done more to Justin than just cause him to lose his erection after Brian had told him he stunk.  Michael’s touch was unwelcome when he rose to his feet and crossed to Brian’s side to lay his hand on Brian’s arm; Brian glanced at him for a moment before he looked away again as he shook Michael’s hand off – he was still unable to connect the man standing beside him with the man who had been so cruel to Justin.

“Brian… Justin has loved you for as long as he has known you.  Go and see him; tell him that you love him, that you want to work it out,” Michael urged.  “The rest will fall into place; he’s loved you for too long not to listen to you.”

Brian smiled slightly even as he shook his head.

“You don’t know the half of it, Michael,” he said finally.  “Yeah… he did love me.  Once.  But I’m not sure he’d even piss on me if he found me on fire in the street nowadays.”

Michael shook his head and reached out to squeeze Brian’s arm tightly.

“Brian, he _loves_ …”

“And I resented that easy, open love he had for me, Michael,” Brian said flatly as he pulled away from his touch again.  “You only saw what you _wanted_ to see.  What I wanted _everyone_ to see.  Two people lived that…that time.  Me and him.  But outside of him and me was _every_ fag on Liberty Avenue.  The family.  _You_.  He had to listen to me deny any kind of feelings I had towards him.  He was just a guy I fucked more than once, right?  I don’t do love, I don’t do relationships, and I didn’t love _him_. 

“You _heard_ what Em and Deb said last night; he has outright said that he was just a fuck to me.  A convenient piece of blonde boy ass.  That’s what he _believes_.  Deb said I could walk into his session tomorrow and tell him how I felt to his face, and he’d call me a liar; who could blame him?  You hear something often enough?  You begin to believe it yourself.  And I shouted that out loud and clear, for _everyone_ to hear, _including_ him.  Why the fuck would he want to come back to _that_?”          

Michael shook his head helplessly as Brian moved towards the large windows that faced the street.  He couldn’t stand to feel Michael’s hand gripping his arm as he tried to comfort him any longer; it felt like a complete and utter betrayal to Justin to accept comfort from the man who had hurt him with such horrible words.

“I didn’t help matters…did I?” Michael finally admitted.  “I should have stayed out of your relationship, Brian.  I should have reassured him when he would speak to me about you; instead, I was shitting all over him too, by reinforcing what he was thinking.”

“Yes, you were,” Brian agreed pointedly, his eyes unfocused as he stared blankly at nothing in particular.  “So why did you?” he finally asked, his voice terse.  Michael looked up when the whispered words met his ear, and he stood up to join Brian by the window.  Staring out across the street, Michael finally sighed and opened the can of worms that had been existing between them for far too long.

“I was jealous.”

When Brian dropped his chin slightly but remained silent, Michael licked his lips and spoke again.

“You knew how I felt about you; yeah, I know, it was never going to happen, I get that _now_. But back then… I could handle the tricks, Brian, because you had rules.  _No_ _repeats_.  But then you met Justin, and everything changed.   I hated it… hated watching you with him, and seeing how happy you made him when you were together.  I couldn’t understand why you could offer it to him, but not to me.  But then David came into my life, and things sort of settled for a while, you know?

“I was kind of happy, and I could ignore the fact that you were _still_ fucking Justin nine months after he had met you.  But then he was bashed.  Things fell apart with David, and I _needed_ to be here for you; to make sure that you were all right, you know?  So, I came home, and Justin got out of the hospital, and he came to live with you.  I think on some level I resented Justin for that; I forgot that he had been bashed…no…”

Michael forcibly shook his head and turned to face Brian who was staring at him in disbelief.

“I _didn’t_ forget; I ignored it, and hoped like hell that it would go away.  When he got out of the hospital, I refused to speak with him about what had happened, even when he begged.  I couldn’t forget how shattered you were that night in the hospital while we were waiting to find out if he was going to survive or not.  The fact that his blood stained your skin, or the fact that you wore that scarf every day around your neck after that against your skin gave me nightmares for weeks.”

“What do you mean he _begged_?” Brian asked in a low voice, and Michael sighed heavily when he heard the anger in Brian’s voice.

“He came to me one afternoon at home; he said he didn’t want to hurt you any further by talking about what had happened to him, and asked if he could he talk to me.  I told him no.  He asked why, and I said that it was over and done with, and the best thing to do was for him to forget about it and move on with his life.  That there was no point in hurting you over it.

“He came back a few days later and asked again; this time he was pretty upset about it, but I couldn’t get the image of you in that hospital out of my head.  I couldn’t speak about it, Brian…it hurt too much.  I didn’t know at the time that he had also approached Ma and Uncle Vic, too, but they had told him the same thing.  I’m sure if you ask the others, they would tell you variations of the same story.

“That was the last time he ever asked anything of me.  And he was better,”  Michael insisted as the words poured out now that Brian was staring at him silently.  “He was able to go out, and things between you guys seemed fine.  It was easier to pretend that it had never happened, than to remember what you went through.”

Brian’s mouth gaped open in shock as he turned to face Michael.  _Was he for real?_  

“What _I_ went through?” he asked slowly, shaking his head in stunned disbelief.  “Michael, he wasn’t _better_ … he was _still_ having nightmares about it the night before he left here!  He was still suffering from headaches that would knock him out for hours on end, and cramps that would render his hand a fucking claw!  Fucking hell, Michael!  You should have come to me and told me what he had said!  I could have stopped all of this!”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked in bewilderment as Brian roughly slid his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Alex told me that Justin won’t talk about Prom; that he was never _allowed_ to talk about what had been done to him.  The bas…. Prom didn’t just happen to _me_ , Michael!  It happened to _him_ too.  And it is _still_ happening to him _now_.”

Brian swore as he turned away from Michael and headed towards his desk.  Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Alex’s number and pressed the call button.  Michael approached Brian’s desk hesitantly as Brian waited for the call to connect, and when it went through to voicemail, he spoke quietly as he stared straight at Michael.

“Alex, it’s Brian Kinney.  Michael, in all of his _infinite_ wisdom, decided to pay Justin a visit this afternoon.  He said that Justin went all funny on him, and walked away.  I know you said not to approach him, and I won’t, but…look, can you call me back?  You have the number.”          

Ending the call, Brian carefully settled the phone back on the desk as he continued to stare at Michael.  And when he finally spoke, it was through clenched teeth as he desperately bit back the anger that wanted to spew forth.Bile rose in his throat as physical nausea threatened to overwhelm him.  

“I can’t even look at you right now, Michael,” Brian finally managed.  “G _o home_.  Run your comic shop, and fuck your hubby; stay away from me and stay the _fuck_ away from Justin!”

Michael blinked in shock as Brian walked away from him, but he managed to find his voice and call after Brian as he stalked over to the bench where his wallet, cell phone, and keys were.  But as he picked his keys up, his fingers brushed the keyring that held Justin’s set, and his anger towards Michael turned molten as he looked down at the photograph of Justin with Gus that hung with those keys.

“Brian, I’m sorry!”

Brian spun around to face Michael as he stood there with pale cheeks and jabbed the air with his finger.

“Sorry’s bullshit!” he shouted.  “You were fucking _TOLD_ not to approach him… we _all_ were.  Do you think that I don’t _want_ to go and hunt his ass down?  Do you think that I’m not sitting here, wondering what he’s thinking and doing, and wanting nothing more than to fucking _talk_ to him?  Your own _mother_ said that Justin didn’t want to see us… that Justin was too fragile at this point to have to deal with us!  You were fucking told!

“ _Jesus_ , Michael, what did you _think_ Justin would do after your visit today?  After laying eyes on someone that he had once considered a friend, and after you told him to his _face_ that you wished he had died!  Do you really think that he went skipping across campus to his next class?  Made some fucking daisy chains or sang fucking camp songs?  He tried to kill himself!  Do you not _get_ that?  Do you even fucking _understand_ what _knowing_ that has done to me?  If he’s done anything…”  Brian squeezed his eyes shut briefly at the thought before he yelled, “Get the fuck out and go home!”

Brian crossed the loft and yanked the door open; glancing at Michael one last time, Brian disappeared down the stairs, leaving Michael standing in the center of the loft with his mouth open in shock.  By the time he scrambled out of the loft, and locked the door behind him, tears were already beginning to well in his eyes.  Running down the stairs, he bolted out onto the street, but when he hit the sidewalk, Brian was already gone.


	9. Chapter 9

The Student Union bar was full; people sat together nursing drinks and smoking in the dim lighting, creating an almost intimate feel as they talked in low voices.  Sam had already completed two sets and was now taking a break, while other students offered up their own talents to fill in the void.  Sam loved playing in this particular bar – the band tended to sing a mix of their own original songs and covers of songs by other groups. People could request individual songs, and if the band knew them, they were happy to sing those, too.  But what he loved more than performing was listening to the eclectic taste of the masses – hard rock mingled with folk - and there was nothing more intoxicating than listening to a heavy metal song turned a cappella in the low lighting, when alcohol warmed the blood and the sweet smell of weed fragranced the air.

Seated together at one of the tables, Sam watched as Daphne nodded her head in time to a barely passable rendition of Fallin’ by Alicia Keys; Sam snorted to himself softly – and they called _Ethan_ a music snob!  Glancing at his boyfriend, Sam narrowed his eyes slightly in concern; Ethan was standing at the bar with Justin.  Their heads were nearly touching as they spoke in low tones, and Sam wondered if Ethan had been able to coax Justin into telling him what had happened before he met them for lunch.  

While Justin wasn’t exactly a sparkling ray of sunshine lately, he had definitely been getting better as each day passed.  He had caught up with Justin briefly before class this morning, and he had been all right; more focused, and driven by the deep passion that he had for his art, he had appeared motivated to start the painting that had been giving him so much trouble.  What the fuck had happened between that class and lunch?  Glancing at Ethan again to make sure that he had Justin’s attention, Sam leaned over the table and spoke quietly.

“Daph, how was Justin this morning?”

Daphne raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her drink before she, too, glanced towards Ethan and Justin.

“You noticed it, too, huh?” she queried softly, and when Sam nodded, Daphne shrugged slightly.   

“I thought that he was fine… better than fine, to be honest.  I mean, he ate _four_ Pop Tarts, for fuck's sake!  He wasn’t happy about taking his meds, but then he never is.  He didn’t come to my room, so he slept well, and he was smiling a little before we left for school.  I just don’t know, Sam… did you see him today?” 

Sam nodded as he finished his beer, and glanced towards the bar quickly before he spoke.

“I saw him before his first class; he mentioned that he felt a little queasy, but that was because he hadn’t eaten that much in a long while; _four_ Pop Tarts?  Did he also crawl into the bucket-sized coffee you get him every morning?” he asked, and when Daphne nodded, Sam shook his head in amazement.  “I’m surprised he wasn’t crawling up the walls backward and hissing at people due to the sugar,” Sam said with another shake of his head, and Daphne laughed softly in agreement.  “But he was fine when I saw him, Daph; he said that he felt better about the painting and that he had a solid idea of where he wanted to take it.  We confirmed our lunch plans, and then he walked into class while I bolted to my own. 

“He was late meeting up with us for lunch; that’s not unusual if he gets lost in his work.  But by then it was a _very_ different Justin compared to the one who walked _into_ class.  It was noticeable enough that I talked to Kellen – they take painting together, and we have classes side-by-side in the afternoon - and Kel said that Justin had been fine in class.  Maybe a little more focused than he had been of late, but that his work flowed well, and Justin had seemed really happy with it.  What did he say to you about it?”

Daphne shook her head slightly as she glanced towards the bar. 

“Nothing; _that’s_ the problem.  I know I haven’t always been welcoming towards you and Ethan, Sam, but it’s been Justin and me on our own for so long that it is tough to open up to new people.  Especially after the _last_ lot of new people we opened up to fucked Justin over.  But I’ve always known that when he’s at school, he’s okay because he has you and Ethan on campus.

“Ethan has more than proven loyal to Justin; I can’t tell you how many text messages I have received over the last couple of months after you guys had had lunch; just Ethan checking in with me to let me know what kind of mind frame Justin was in that day, so that I could prepare myself for when he got home.  Ethan warned me today that Justin was acting funky, and to be ready; he should get out of class by a quarter to five, be home by five-thirty, six at the latest. 

“But when I got home at four o’clock today, he was already there; he had been smoking weed for a while, so I know that he didn’t go to his second class for the day.  I tried talking to him about it, but he shut me down at every turn; it was like the last three months hadn’t happened, and we were back at Day One in the hospital.  He just didn’t want to talk – not about school, not about tonight – not about anything. 

“I rang Alex, and he said that while he wasn’t happy that Justin was using pot, at least he wasn’t drinking or using anything else.  He asked if you or Ethan knew what was going on, but I said I didn’t know.  He asked me what we were doing tonight, and said he’d swing by here or Boytoy to observe Justin.  He’d stay out of our way and only interfere if he thought that Justin was spiraling.”

Sam nodded, and then glanced towards his watch briefly.  “I have to get back up on stage,” he said.  “Try and get Justin to stick around; if he insists on going to Boytoy, we’ll come with you, or we’ll meet you there.  Safety in numbers, right?”

Daphne could only nod as she sipped her drink; but when Sam paused and reached out to settle his fingertip lightly on her hand before he stood up, she managed to give him a slightly watery smile.  The understanding in those bright, green eyes had her fighting back her tears, and Sam lowered his head to brush his lips over her brow before he walked away.

Daphne blew out a steadying breath as she watched Sam leave; long legs, with lean, muscled arms from hours of holding and playing his guitar, and a smile that rivaled Justin’s when Sam could be coaxed into giving it to you.  It seemed that all cute guys she met lately were gay; glancing over her shoulder briefly at Justin, Daphne sighed as she watched Ethan brush his hand down over Justin’s back before he stood up and left the blond sitting alone at the bar.

Ethan shouldered his way through the crowd and sank into the seat Sam had left.  Handing Daphne a refill of her soft drink without comment, he took a deep swallow of his own before he shook his head at the question he saw lingering in Daphne’s direct gaze.

“He’s twisting between sadness and outright anger,” was all he said.

The silence between them became heavy, and Daphne shifted in her seat slightly as she leaned across the table.

“Ethan… it’s not your fault.  You do know that, right?” she asked, and Ethan shrugged slightly as he glanced towards the bar.

The tightness around his lips relaxed slightly when he caught sight of a familiar head of silver hair bobbing and weaving through the crowd; gesturing with his glass, Ethan toasted Alex’s appearance silently before he glanced at Daphne.

“No, it’s not my fault.  It’s not mine or yours or Justin’s fault; it is what it is, Daphne, and it’s an ugly bastard that we are trying to help him deal with.  He won’t tell me what happened today; he said he has to learn how to handle the shit life throws at him, while hoping that none of it sticks.”

Daphne smiled slightly and shook her head as the opening riffs of music cut through the air when Sam began to play.

“At least he wasn’t using the lemons one again,” she said, raising her voice to be heard, and Ethan laughed outright.

“Do you remember the first time he used that one?” he asked, and Daphne nodded as her lips stretched into a smile.

“When life hands you lemons, throw them back at the bastard and demand a fucking refund!” they both quipped, and as their laughter spilled out and joined together, they looked at each other and for the first time, felt at ease with each other; the moment was broken by the sound of Sam’s voice, and Daphne glanced over at Justin again as Ethan looked towards his boyfriend, all the while hoping that everything was going to be all right.  

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Justin sat with his back towards his friends and ran the tip of his finger around the rim of his glass.  He had felt the concerned glances he was getting from Daphne and Sam while Ethan had spoken to him, and now he could feel the weight of Ethan’s and Daphne’s eyes upon him again.  He knew they were worried; he knew that he had given them cause for concern over the last three months.  But he liked to think he had grown as a person since leaving Brian.  Had grown up and changed, was still growing and evolving.  Wasn’t that the whole purpose of life?

Seeing Michael today had rattled him; he could be honest with himself about that, even if he hadn’t been able to tell Ethan the truth.  It had brought back every feeling that he had been so desperately trying to overcome – the feelings of helplessness and disillusionment, and the constant burn of humiliation as he learned that he wasn’t enough to make the man that he loved happy; there had to be something innately wrong with him.  His love had caused Brian to pull away from him, no matter what he had tried to make him happy.

And God, he had loved Brian.  Loved him beyond all reason and doubt, had twisted himself into the person that he thought Brian wanted him to be until that love had all but destroyed him.  It had never been about the tricking; Justin scowled and shook his head slightly.  Honesty.  He had to be honest, not only with those around him but with himself, too.  The tricking had bothered him; not when they had agreed beforehand and done so together – that had been hot. 

But when he would come home from a twelve-hour shift at the diner, exhausted from pretending to be okay all day, needing solitude more than he needed to draw his next breath, only to find Brian in the loft fucking someone else, that’s when he hated tricking, and everything that it stood for.  Hated that he would stand under the scalding heat of the shower to feel a different kind of pain; hiding the tears that he could no longer fight back under the steaming water.  Trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with himself as a person that the man he loved found it impossible to keep his tricks out of the home that they shared.  Having to smell the scent of sex in the air, and seeing the amused expression that Brian never hid when faced with Justin’s own humiliation. 

Picking his glass up, Justin swallowed the last of his ginger ale and sighed softly as he tilted the empty glass in his hands so that it caught the light and shimmered.  The artist inside himself rejoiced at the colors that spun across the surface of the glass, while the man he had become made the connection between the emptiness of the glass and his own life.  He was torn out of that depressing thought when a warm body settled into the seat Ethan had left, and a voice spoke.

“Buy you another one?”

Glancing to his left, Justin exhaled steadily as he shook his head when he saw Alex sitting beside him.

“No, thanks,” he said quietly as he set the glass back down on the bar. 

They sat in companionable silence as the music played around them; Justin facing the bar and tracing the rim of his empty glass, while Alex leaned back on the bar and watched Sam sing and perform on stage.  When Daphne had called him that afternoon, Alex had been waiting for her call; after listening to Brian rant on the phone for a solid twenty minutes about what Michael had done, Alex had done some soul searching, but his decision still wasn’t sitting well with him at this point. 

“What are you thinking about?” Alex finally asked when it became apparent that Justin was content to let the silence linger between them, and Justin shrugged.

“I'm seeing you tomorrow, Alex; can we talk then?” Justin said bluntly, and Alex turned slightly so that he was looking at Justin’s profile.

“That depends, Justin.”

“On?” Justin asked, and Alex leaned a little closer to him.

“Whether or not you’re going to let Michael Novotny rattle you to the point that you go on a pain management binge after confronting the little bastard at school today.”

Only the quick lift of Justin’s eyebrows showed his surprise, and he laughed softly.  When he glanced at Alex, he shook his head as a slightly bitter smile twisted his lips.

“Let me guess; he went running back to _him_ to tell tales about what a prick I am,” he said mockingly as he looked down at his hands.

“Pretty much,” Alex said quietly as he took a sip of the whiskey that was set down in front of him.

“So how did… Michael find out?” Justin asked, and Alex silently applauded him for the level of calm that Justin was showing, even as his slight hesitation revealed that he was thinking about whether or not Brian man had asked about him.

“Emmett was the one who ending up telling Brian, Justin,” Alex said gently.  “And from what I understand, Brian went to Debbie, who filled him in on what has been happening for the last three months since you parted company.  The rest of the family was called in after that.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Alex winced slightly as Justin breathed the word out; he could see the tension that had filled the boy when Brian’s name was mentioned, and as he watched, a visible tremor rolled down Justin’s spine.  Justin shook his head to push whatever he was feeling away before tucking his hair behind his ear.

“So they all know?” he asked tentatively, and when Alex nodded, Justin glanced at him before he pursed his lips and shook his head resolutely.

“Well, you can tell _them_ what I told Michael – they chose to shut me out when I left… after Rage,” Justin broke off and sighed heavily as he dropped his gaze back to the bar.  “Them knowing changes nothing – I don’t want to speak to any of them,” he said finally.

“Not even for closure?  To tell them that they betrayed you?  Hurt you?  To tell them once and for all to fuck off out of your life?” Alex asked, and Justin snorted.

“Why, when they taught me that silence was _so_ much more effective?  It speaks volumes when there aren’t any words left to say, Alex; why waste my breath, when I’ve said all there is?  I wasn’t good enough to be their friend then, Alex – now they’re not enough for _me_.  So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m here with my friends.”

Alex reached out and grasped Justin’s arms as the blond left his seat, and they locked eyes for a long moment.  Alex searched Justin’s steady gaze; he saw the repressed anger that Justin felt shining brightly, but despondency still lurked in his eyes.  Tightening his grip for a moment, Alex finally nodded when Justin’s mouth tightened.

“Justin, let me impart some knowledge that was once shared with me when I was younger,” Alex said finally.  “* _Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars.  You have to let go at some point in order to move forward._ *  Remember…you’ve fought too fucking _hard_ for the progress you have made to throw it all away; _please_ be careful,” and Justin paused before he gave a tiny nod and walked away without another word.

Alex tossed back the shot of whiskey in his glass before he slipped out of the bar and headed towards his car.  Pulling out his cell phone, he scrolled through the numbers until he found the one he was after and pressed send.  Alex slipped into his car and started the engine as the call was connected; it barely had time to ring once on the other end before it was answered, and Alex spoke flatly.

“You were right to be worried, Brian; Michael showing up at school today has thrown Justin for a loop.”

“ _Fuck!  He was fucking told to stay away…we ALL were!  What did Justin say?_ ”

Alex sighed as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel before he shook his head.

“It’s never what Justin _says_ , Brian,” he said finally.  “It’s what he _does_.  You taught the boy well.”

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening, and when Brian finally spoke again, it was with tightly controlled anger.

_“Pain management…right?  You told me that I had nothing on him when it came to pain management.  So will it be drinking or drugs?”_

Alex shook his head as he debated as to whether or not to potentially break Justin’s trust in him, by informing his former lover just how far his boy had fallen into his depression, considering it was a gross violation of patient/doctor confidentiality as well.

 “I told you, Brian, that if you are _in_ , that if you think that Justin is _worth_ fighting for, then you have to get to know the _new_ Justin,” he said at last.  “You see, the new Justin is on potent antidepressants; he can’t drink _or_ take drugs.  The hardest thing he has used since I put him on them is pot, which he used today thanks to the man who calls himself your _best friend_.  No, Justin doesn’t do _either_ – he fucks his way through Boytoy, which reinforces just how worthless he feels – merely another piece of blond boy ass.”

 _“I don’t understand,”_ Brian said after a moment.  “ _Justin loves fucking; he always loved to top the beefy guys who thought he was nothing more than a pretty twink.”_

Alex laughed bitterly before he finally sighed.

 “Brian… I never said that Justin _only_ tops,” he said quietly, and closed his eyes in defeat when he heard Brian’s breath clearly hitch on the other end of the phone.

“While he was with you, other than two times that I know of and have spoken to him about, he only ever bottomed for you,” Alex said gently as he listened to Brian’s difficult breathing.  “He topped every other man he ever fucked, Brian.  In Justin’s eyes, while he was happy fucking other men, he would only ever bottom for YOU – it made him feel like he was faithful in some way.  It was why he had such a hard time with the tricking towards the end of your relationship. 

“But he’s not with _you_ anymore.  Brian… If you get told something often enough, such as you’re only a convenient piece of ass or a trick that won’t go away, you start to _believe_ it.  What made him different from any other trick?  The fact that you fucked only him in the place you lived together?  Oh, that’s right – you didn’t fuck _just_ him at the place he called home – no locks, right?  Just a convenient piece of blonde boy ass,” Alex said softly and then winced when the sound of shattering glass echoed down the phone line.    

For several minutes, Alex listened to Brian breathe on the other end of the phone without speaking.  And when Brian finally did talk, Alex could hear the strain in his voice as he pushed the words out.

“ _His version of pain management is to turn himself into what he thinks I saw him as…isn’t it?  That’s what you’re trying to say.  He’s **punishing** himself by having sex, by taking something that he loved doing, and twisting it so that it hurts him…right?”_

Alex’s breath shuddered out, and it was his turn to force the words out.

“Brian… it more than hurts him.  I can’t tell you any more than that without completely betraying him, but it more than hurts him.”

This time it was Brian’s breathing that shuddered out, and the silence between the two men grew thick with tension as Alex stared at the bar.  

“Times up, Kinney; are you in or out?” Alex demanded, breaking the silence.  “Are you ready to fight for him?  Because he is going to fight you every step of the way, Brian.  Every single step.  There will be days where you wonder what the fuck you are doing, and _why_.  You’ll think you aren’t getting anywhere, and that you are going backwards before you even realize that you might _still_ lose him. 

“Are you ready to sit down in his therapy sessions and listen to him tear himself apart?  Are you prepared to hear what being _your_ partner has reduced him to?  Are you ready to listen to him try to comprehend why the people he has left in his life want to be there?  Are you prepared to see the damage Michael’s words have done?  The damage _your_ words have done?  Because I’m telling you now, Brian, if you are _in_ , then you have to be _entirely_ in.

“You can’t do this half-assed; conversations at Woody's when you are drunk?  They aren’t going to cut it here.  Do you love him enough to examine yourself and find out why your relationship failed the way it did?  Are you willing to compromise on that relationship, instead of it being an unstable power play between a man and a boy?   Is he _worth_ ripping yourself open for?”

For a long-drawn-out moment, the connection between them remained silent.  So silent, that Alex thought Brian had hung up.

“ _He’s worth it_.”      

 Alex let out a shuddering exhale of air at the barely audible words that Brian gritted out before he turned his car back off.

“Then I suggest you get ready to fight for him.  I’m at The Student Union; it’s a bar at PIFA.  Justin’s here with his friends; I don’t know how much longer they’ll stay here before they head over to Boytoy.  But I want you to actually see Justin; to watch him, and gain an insight into who he is as a person now.”

Alex smiled grimly when Brian hung up the phone without further comment; he had heard the rapid footfalls that had shown Brian had already been on the move when Alex had told him which bar he was at.  All he could do now was toss the hand he held in the air, and wait for the pieces to fall. 

***Quote by C.S. Lewis.**


	10. Chapter 10

10.

Brian had only ever set foot in Boytoy once, and that had been back when he had first started hanging out on Liberty Avenue.  The club, and the vapid boys who had once filled it, had done nothing for him; he had preferred the men of Babylon and hadn’t had a reason to return to Boytoy since.  He had vague memories of bright colors and velvet décor that still left a sour taste in his mouth over a decade later.  Other than Sap owning Babylon, and the club being Brian’s playground, Brian couldn’t figure out what drew Justin to Boytoy and kept him there when there were other clubs on Liberty. 

He had been five minutes away from PIFA when Alex had rung him to let him know that Justin and Daphne had left the bar.  Brian had cursed softly before turning his jeep around and heading back towards Liberty Avenue.  But when he had driven past Boytoy, he had been unable to get a parking space and had ended up parking nearly a block away and returning on foot.  As he came upon the line to the club, however, he began to get the inkling that this wasn’t the same Boytoy he remembered. 

He could see how far back the line stretched as he rounded the corner; young twinks huddled together for warmth while talking about school and music, and the cute guys they were hoping to see as Brian walked the length of the line.  He could see many a blond head waiting, but was yet to lay eyes on Justin.  As he reached the start of the queue, he heard the whispers start – he heard his name mentioned, and glanced over his shoulder cautiously.

The boys waiting in line were staring at him as if they knew him; maybe they did.  Perhaps his reputation had reached even these young ears.  He couldn’t remember Justin ever appearing this youthful, however, and he relaxed when he heard Alex call his name.  Walking towards Alex, Brian bit back the question he wanted to ask when Alex turned his back to the club and walked away from it.  The curious whispers from the young twinks faded as they turned the corner, and Alex sighed in relief as he led Brian around towards the back of the club.

“Where are we going?” Brian finally asked as Alex led him deeper into an alley, and his companion glanced at him with a slight smile.

“Back entrance – it’s under twenty-one night, Brian, and Aristide has stringent rules here about who he lets in on those nights.  It keeps the underage boys safe from the hawks.”

Brian stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Alex in shock.

“Those boys are….how old?” he asked, and Alex shrugged as Brian quickened his pace to catch up with him.

“They range in age from fifteen to twenty-one.  Those under seventeen are rounded up and signed out no later than ten PM.  The older ones then have free reign of the dancefloor until Aristide shuts down around three AM.  This isn’t the Boytoy of old, Brian – Aristide took this place on two-and-a-half years ago, and if Gary doesn’t adapt to the changes of time, Babylon will go under and places like Boytoy will take its place.  Aristide runs a tight ship here; very clean, very safe.  If Justin had known about this place when he first hit Liberty Avenue two years ago?  He would have had a very different support group.  Come on.”

“Signed out?” Brian questioned as Alex knocked on a door, and Alex nodded.

“Yep; each person who is let in has to produce school ID, and they are signed into the club.  When they leave, they are signed out, and the bouncers make sure that they have a ride home.  There is no underage drinking here, nor are there any drugs – there’s the alcove, but even that is guarded by bouncers so that none of the younger ones go in there.”

Alex broke off when the door opened, and a young man in his mid-twenties looked out.  Slim, with closely cropped black hair, his skin was a gorgeous café latte color; it was the pale gold of his eyes, however, that turned him from cute into stunning.  A small smile crossed his face, and he leaned forward to brush his lips lightly over Alex’s in greeting.

“Chér,” he said quietly in greeting, and Brian heard the sound of the bayou in the soft baritone of his voice as he ushered them through the door and out of the cold.

Brian glanced around the dimly lit room, and found that they were in a storage room of sorts.  It was clean, and meticulously organized, and he watched as Aristide locked the door behind them before pushing bolts into both the ceiling and the floor so that the door couldn’t be opened from the outside.

“Ari, how are you?” Alex asked, as Aristide turned back to face them.  A small smile played across his lips, and he tilted his chin up slightly.

“I’m good, Chér.”

“And how is your family?” Alex asked, Brian glancing at him when he heard the slight change in Alex’s voice.

“They’re good,” Ari said simply.  “Liana is growing more every day; she is lovely.”

“And how is Grant?” Alex asked politely.

“What brings you here tonight?” Ari asked curtly without further pretence.  “When you came to me several months ago, I told you that I didn’t have a problem with you observing young Justin from my catwalk, Alex; that I would keep an eye on him while he was here, and call you should anything happen.  I do, however, have a problem with you bringing Mr. Kinney into my establishment.  He has the asses of Babylon to choose from – I will not have him hunting in my house.  Not when I personally greeted Justin with a kiss as he came through my doors tonight.”

Brian’s eyebrows flew up, and Ari smiled at him coolly.

“Yes, I know who you are, Mr. Kinney.  The Stud of Liberty Avenue.  Mr. ‘One Fuck Only.’  Though I suppose I should thank you; if it weren’t for _you_ , I wouldn’t have young Justin dancing in my house.  He draws in quite the crowd when he’s here.  So, _he_ is welcome – _you_ , however, are not.  So again, Alex; why are you here with him, when we both know that it is no secret around Liberty Avenue that he discarded the young man?”

Alex sighed even as Brian’s temper flared.  But then Alex laid his hand on Brian’s arm and looked at Ari with sad eyes.

“Ari… Brian didn’t know about Justin.  He only found out a few days ago.  He thought Justin was in a relationship with Ethan.”

Ari’s soft sound of surprise was as musical as his accent, even as he raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“Ethan?  _Sam’s_ Ethan?”

Ari looked utterly gobsmacked when Alex nodded – his jaw dropped as his eyes widened, and Brian might have found the look on his face funny if the laughter that erupted from Ari wasn’t directed in part at himself.

“Uh… _no_ ,” Ari finally said when he pulled himself back together.  “Ethan, Sam, and Justin fucked around, that’s no secret, but they aren’t together… who fed him _that_ line of horseshit?”

“Someone he trusted,” Alex said quietly, and Ari smiled.  It wasn’t a pleasant smile, however; Brian could see the mocking quality those curved lips had, and he looked at the two men slowly.

“And _this_ is why open relationships don’t work, Alex.  Because the _one_ person you should be able to trust without question is the man you are fucking.  Anyone else who tells you information that might be detrimental to your relationship is probably telling you that information for their own personal gain.  History has a nasty habit of repeating itself… doesn’t it, Chér?  Tell me… how’s Ricky?”

Alex shook his head and blew out a steadying breath.

“Brian isn’t here to cause trouble for Justin, Ari.  I just want him to see Justin, while the boy is unaware.  We won’t stay long, I promise.”

Aristide looked at them for a long moment, before he turned on his heel without further comment and headed towards the stairs.  But before he opened the door that muffled the sound of music, Ari looked over his shoulder at the two men and spoke quietly.

“Maybe history won’t repeat itself; maybe Mr. Kinney will learn from… _his_ mistakes.  Time will tell… won’t it, Chér?”

The smile that lingered on his lips was slightly bitter, but before Alex could say anything, Ari opened the door, and the dark sounds of techno drowned out any chance for further communication.  Brian let his eyes adjust from the dim lighting of the storage room to the flashing lights that danced across the room.  It was only then that his jaw dropped when he took in the changes that Ari had made to Boytoy.

Gone were the bright colors and velvet décor; there were no large speakers, and the DJ was tucked against the wall, leaving plenty of space on the packed dance floor.  Brian could feel the base vibrating in the walls and under his feet as he followed Alex and Ari up a broad staircase towards a deep catwalk that ran around each wall of the club, turning what had once been a single level room into a split level.  Sheer white material ran down the walls from the roof, and it glowed as the flashing lights bounced around the room currently filled with young men.

Couches lined the walls on the second level, and young twinks sat together and shouted to be heard over the pounding music that seemed to make the air pulse as Ari wound his way through the young, smooth bodies towards the back of the club.  Brian could see the discreet glass-walled office that Ari pointed towards, but couldn’t stop himself from peering over the catwalk and down towards the dance floor.

Standing behind the material that fell from the roof gave the catwalk the feeling that Brian was looking out from behind mirrored glass.  He could see the action on the dance floor, but had the feeling that no one could see those on the catwalk easily from down below.  He jumped when Alex grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the office, and it was then that Brian realized that a whole section of catwalk near the room was empty.

There was a door set into the end of the catwalk and when Ari shut it behind them, although Brian could still feel the pounding pulse of the music, the noise level dropped significantly.  He glanced at Ari in surprise and received a cold smile in return as Ari offered him a glass of scotch.  Taking the provided drink with a murmured thanks, Brian brushed the glass wall silently with his fingertips.

“My husband helped me design the club, Mr. Kinney,” Ari finally offered, ignoring the flinch that Alex was unable to hide at his words.  “And the first thing we put into place was thick soundproofing.  One cannot run a business when your brain wants to bleed out of your ears due to the music.  I’ll leave you to it.”

Ari glanced at Alex and tilted his head in farewell before he let himself out of the office and walked away.  Brian turned to face Alex, who shook his head slightly when he saw the questions in Brian’s eyes.

“Do you really think that you’re the only man who has ever made a mistake, Brian?” he finally asked.  “You at least have the chance to rectify yours – I have to live with mine every day.”

“And Ari was your mistake?” Brian asked, and Alex laughed bitterly.

“No, Ari…” Alex blew out a shuddering breath and shook his head.  “No,” he said finally.  “Ari was the casualty of my mistake like Justin was yours.  But by the time I figured that out, by the time I figured out what I wanted and needed, he had moved on.”

When Brian opened his mouth, Alex shook his head and moved up to stand beside Brian.  Looking out over the dance floor, Alex scanned the boys that danced to the seductive music.  It took him several minutes, but then he merely pointed towards the middle of the dance floor.  He knew the exact moment Brian located Justin because the man went utterly still beside him.  Glancing up at Brian, Alex saw the look on his face and sighed softly –the man thought he was able to deftly hide how he felt about the blond.  Alex smiled slightly and wondered if he should tell Brian that his feelings were written all over his face.

Brian swallowed hard as he stared down at Justin; the boy danced with his shirt off, and Brian ran his eyes down the curve of Justin’s spine slowly.  Justin’s skin glowed under the flashing lights, and Brian could see the shift of muscle play out under the lights as he kept his arms wound around Daphne’s waist.  His wore those baggy jeans that he tended to favor, and they clung to his hips as Justin rolled them in time to the driving music.

His hair was damp with sweat and curled around the nape of his neck; he shoved his hands through it, and pushed the long strands back over his head, causing a sharp stab of desire in Brian’s gut as his hands itched to repeat the motion.  It was only when Daphne stepped away from Justin and pointed towards the bar that Brian saw Justin turn around.  If he thought his heart had been broken to learn what Justin had done, Brian was in for a surprise – he was sure the sound of it was audible when he caught sight of the lost look that graced Justin’s face as he paused to take a breath.

The feeling in his chest grew worse when a young boy stepped into Justin’s space and reached out to rest his hands on Justin’s stomach.  The change in Justin was clearly visible – a soft smile curved Justin’s lips; it was filled with genuine affection and seemed so out of place after seeing how lost his boy had looked only moments earlier that Brian reached up to rest his hand against the glass.  He heard Alex breathe out softly when Justin stepped closer to the boy and began to gyrate his hips in time to the music again.  The boy only hesitated for a minute before he caught onto Justin’s rhythm and began to dance with the blonde.

Daphne appeared by their side, and Justin leaned into her slightly as she lifted her lips to his ear and spoke, while gesturing towards the bar.  Following Justin’s lead, he glanced towards the bar and saw Ethan and Sam leaning against it; Justin tilted his chin up in greeting, and a slight smile crossed his face when Sam blew him an exaggerated kiss that had Ethan’s face lighting up in laughter and Justin shaking his head as Daphne grinned.  Brushing a kiss across Daphne’s cheek, Justin turned his attention back to the boy he was dancing with and pulled him closer so that their bodies touched with each movement of Justin’s hips.

Brian felt his hand's clench as he watched Justin dance with the boy – he had seen this side of Justin before, had actually taken pleasure in watching his boy dance with other men.  But watching this hurt; it hurt somewhere deep inside, and caused Brian’s jaw to clench as he watched the boy skim his hands down Justin’s sides.  The younger man was brunette; decidedly effeminate, and shorter than Justin, but with a youthful innocence to him that Brian could remember Justin once having.  The boy seemed shy, but he relaxed into himself when Justin rested his forearms on the boy’s shoulders and linked his fingers loosely behind his neck.

“That’s Tommy,” Alex said finally as Brian watched Tommy wrap his arms around Justin’s waist.  “I don’t think he’s any older than sixteen, but he took a real shine to Justin the first time he came here.  Justin always saves a dance for him – he said he remembers how scared he was the first time he ever set foot on Liberty Avenue, and wanted to make sure that Tommy had only good memories of coming out and discovering what kind of gay boy he wanted to be.”

Brian nodded distractedly as he watched the pair continue to dance.  They seemed to be having a conversation; shouting at each other to be heard over the music.  Justin shook his head at whatever it was that Tommy was saying, but then he tilted it to the side slightly as Tommy’s mouth began to move again.  Brian knew Justin; knew every inch of his body, and nearly every expression that could and had crossed his face.  And whatever Tommy was talking about had Justin pursing his lips slightly in consideration.

Tommy continued to talk, and as he did, he drew the tips of his fingers across Justin’s chest several times.  He traced the delicate lines of Justin’s clavicle, before smoothing his thumbs across the slope of Justin’s collarbones, then he reached up and lightly touched the full pillow of his lower lip.  And as he talked, Justin’s eyes never left Tommy’s face.  Brian barely had time to ponder what decision Justin seemed to have made when Justin lifted his hands and cupped Tommy’s face.  And as Brian watched, he gently tilted Tommy’s chin up as Tommy rose up onto his tiptoes and pressed his own mouth against Justin’s lips.

Brian swallowed thickly as jealously set fire to his blood and left him to burn.  He knew the exact texture of Justin’s lips; knew how they felt when pressed firmly against his own.  What his tongue felt like when it darted into Brian’s mouth in a game of advance and retreat.  What his breath tasted like when panting against his mouth as they moved together.  He knew the heights of desire that Justin’s mouth could bring; whether it was his tongue flicking along Brian’s skin to taste, or the suction of those soft lips around the head of his cock.  He could recall each and every touch of those lips with perfect clarity.

Justin broke the kiss slowly; Brian knew the feeling of that intimately.  The nibble of his teeth, and the final flick of the tip of his tongue across the center of Tommy’s top lip.  Tommy seemed to sway on his feet, and Justin’s hands left Tommy’s face and gripped his shoulders slightly.  Tommy dropped back down onto flat feet, but his face lit up when Justin took his hand; he followed the blond docilely towards the stairs, and Brian tracked their movements as Justin led Tommy up to the second level.

He had a moment of panic when Justin rounded the corner, but Justin wasn’t coming any closer to the office.  He merely leaned against the balustrade that ran the length of the second level, and drew Tommy towards him and into his arms.  Separated by mere meters and a glass wall, Brian closed his eyes when Justin lowered his head to kiss Tommy again, but try as he might, the images were burned behind his eyelids. 

It didn’t matter that it was more than evident that this was Tommy’s first kiss – that he had asked Justin to take him through that first foray into the life of a gay man.  Brian had never liked seeing Justin kiss other men – it was why he had agreed to the no kissing rule so readily.  But watching as Tommy began to quickly rock his hips against the thigh Justin had wedged between the boy’s legs, Brian knew that Justin had taken Tommy from that simple sip of lips on the dance floor to a full-blown tongue-twisting, spit-swapping kiss that apparently had the boy ready to blow his load in his jeans.

Brian could remember giving Justin his first kiss – the way Justin had taken such hesitant steps across the loft towards him, as he waited for the blond to come and get what he had so obviously wanted.  From that first teasing lick across Justin’s bottom lip, Brian had tasted cigarette smoke and innocence; when Justin’s knees had all but buckled during that kiss, Brian had felt ten feet tall, and a driving need to claim every virginal inch of him. 

But unlike Brian who had taken Justin from zero to sixty on that very first night, Justin was slowly easing Tommy down as the boy suddenly sagged against him and panted into Justin’s mouth.  Gentling the carnality of the kiss to those soft sips that Brian remembered so well, Justin smoothed his hands across the boy’s shoulders, and then down his back as Tommy buried his head in Justin’s neck and clung to him. 

Brian’s heart pinched when Justin wrapped his arms around Tommy and gently held him as Tommy shuddered in his arms.  Justin turned his head and rubbed his cheek across the top of Tommy’s head, a slightly wistful smile crossing his face as he closed his eyes and rocked slightly.  It was innocent in a way that Brian couldn’t ever recall sharing with Justin.  It was more than evident that Tommy had blown his load, and watching Justin ease him through the aftershocks, Brian felt the first slow lick of shame as he recalled the first time Justin had cum, and the way Brian had callously thanked him for ruining his duvet.

Lost in memory and regret, Brian almost missed it when Justin opened his eyes.  Almost.  But he felt the full power of Justin’s gaze when Justin glanced towards the office, and they locked eyes for the first time in over three months.  Brian almost staggered under the punch of pure emotion he felt as Justin stared at him; his boy couldn’t hide his shock when he recognized Brian, but just as quickly, his face melted into the smooth mask he had taken to wearing during the last few months.

Brian moistened his lips slightly as Justin continued to stare at him, but when Tommy shifted in his arms, Justin dismissed Brian entirely when he turned his head and smiled softly down at the boy.  Cupping Tommy’s face in his hand, Justin smoothed his thumb down over the corner of Tommy’s lips, before he leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss on Tommy’s forehead.  Brian continued to stare at them as they exchanged words; he could see the blush that stained Tommy’s face, but whatever Justin was saying to him had him smiling crookedly before he nodded. 

Standing up on tiptoe, Tommy pressed a shy kiss to Justin’s lips before he stepped back and walked towards the stairs.  Justin stayed where he was; hands loose by his side and that gentle smile on his face as he watched Tommy walk down the stairs and disappear into the crowd of dancers.  It was only then that he looked back towards the office; that gentle smile faded and was replaced with detachment as Justin looked at him.  Justin’s eyes flicked to Brian’s left, and Brian bit his bottom lip when Justin showed the first real hint of emotion.

Betrayal stole across his face, bleaching it of all color when he saw Alex standing with Brian.  But just as quickly, even as Alex swore, the walls that Alex had warned Brian about were thrown up and Brian saw what Michael had meant – he was looking at a stranger.  This wasn’t the boy who had loved Brian with everything he had – this was the man that Brian and his family had turned that boy into.  Gone was the innocence that had drawn him to Justin that first night – it had been replaced with pain that Brian could almost see undulating beneath Justin’s skin.

Brian couldn’t help the flinch that caused him to twitch as Justin’s lips pressed into firm lines.  It was with that involuntary flinch that Justin shook his head slightly; whatever spell had caused him to stand there was broken, and with one final, unreadable look towards Brian, Justin turned on his heel and made his way through the crowded catwalk towards the stairs. 

_“For the first time in your life, you are going to have to chase after someone who is going to run for cover the minute they lay eyes on you.”_

Unable to stand the sound of Alex’s whispered warning echoing in his head, Brian crossed the room in quick strides and was out of the office and onto the catwalk before Alex could even draw breath to warn him to stop.  He caught up with Justin only seconds later; calling his name, Brian watched as Justin’s shoulders rounded, but the boy continued to move through the throngs of young twinks.  Unable to stand it, unable to continue watching Justin walking away from him yet again, Brian lunged forward and grasped Justin’s hand in his own.

Justin froze at Brian’s touch, enabling Brian to take that final couple of steps towards him so that he could feel the boy’s body heat seep into his skin through the thin shirt he wore under his leather jacket.  But their close proximity also allowed Brian to smell the scent of youthful sweat and lingering cigarette smoke that curled up from the warmth of Justin’s skin.  He was able to see the subtle tremor that danced across Justin’s body when his free hand rose to curl around Justin’s hip.  And when Justin slowly turned his head, Brian was almost physically sick when blank eyes met his own.

“Take your fucking hands off me.”

Justin’s voice was shrouded in pure ice, and the tone of it had Brian’s fingers flexing to do what Justin wanted before his brain engaged and reminded him that Justin’s fight or flight response had kicked in.  If he let the boy go now, he would only be reinforcing Justin’s insecurities, and he’d be fucked if he ever did that again.  Brian tightened his grip on Justin’s hip in response as he closed the final step between them and felt the touch of his boy’s body resting against his own for the first time in far too fucking long.

Brian’s eyes fluttered shut momentarily; he couldn’t help it.  He didn’t care how weak it made him look – he didn’t care what anyone thought.  Lowering his head slightly, he felt his nose skim the side of Justin’s head, and he inhaled.  Justin’s scent, half-forgotten, filled his lungs and Brian was unable to hide the shudder that went through his body.  But just as he was unable to conceal his reaction, neither was Justin.  Brian’s eyes popped open when Justin started to shake beneath his hands, and he saw that Justin had dropped his chin.

Pale hair hid Justin from sight, and Brian carefully shifted his body so that he could see more of Justin’s face.  The color had fled Justin’s skin, and he was biting his lips hard enough to cause his teeth to leave indentations in the supple flesh.  Brian felt his face contort, and he let his hand slip from Justin’s hip, but continued to hold onto his hand.  It was only when Justin’s name fell hoarsely from his lips that Justin finally peeked up at him; the blank look was gone and what Brian saw in those beautiful blue eyes almost drove him to his knees.  But then Justin spoke, and Brian finally learned what real pain was.

“I can’t… Brian… just let me go.  Forget that you ever knew me; you’re back to being the Stud of Liberty Avenue just like you wanted… just… just let me go.”

Brian shook his head helplessly when he saw the depth of pain and suffering that Justin couldn’t hide as he stared up at him.  Justin’s mask was gone, and Brian’s fingers went lax on Justin’s hand.  For a heartbeat, he felt Justin’s fingers tighten within his own, and then Justin pulled free of Brian’s grip as he turned and walked away.  Brian could only stand there and watch as Justin stumbled down the stairs and across the crowded floor to where Daphne was dancing. 

Within seconds of reaching Daphne’s side, Daphne had her arms around Justin, and her eyes were searching the catwalk as Justin dropped his head to her shoulder.  Her gaze found Brian’s, and Brian saw sheer loathing reflected back towards him before Daphne wrapped her arm around Justin’s shoulders and, with one final heated glance towards Brian, she led the blond away.  Standing there, unable to move, Brian could only watch as Justin was steered out of Boytoy; Alex touched his elbow gently, and when Brian turned his head slightly, Alex stared him dead in the eye.

“Is he still worth it, Brian?” Alex asked softly, and as the door closed behind Justin, Brian could only shake his head.

“How…?” he finally managed, and Alex smiled grimly as Brian stuttered over his words.  “How do I fucking do this?”

“By not giving up; by holding on, while now knowing that he has let go.  By being strong enough to fight his demons.  You love him enough for that, Brian?”

Brian closed his eyes; he ignored the thump of techno, and the sound of young, gay boys around him.  Justin’s voice whispered in his mind and gave Brian his answer.

_“Just let me go…”_

 “Tell me what to do.  Tell me how to make this right,” he mumbled, and Alex’s hand squeezed his elbow in response.

“Okay.  My office – tomorrow.  Make an appointment.”

Alex’s fingers slipped from his arm, and Brian blew out an unsteady breath before he followed the man down the stairs and towards his future.    


	11. Chapter 11

 11.  Thanks to Bluemyst for a line you gave me in a review that I have used in here. Still powerful. Thanks, hon. xx

_“I’ll be recording our sessions, Brian, so that I can go back over them in the future.  Is that okay with you?”_

_“Did you record Justin’s?”_

_“Yes, I did.  So for the therapy sessions to work, Brian, you have to be prepared to be open and honest; not only with me, but with yourself as well.  Otherwise, this is a waste of time.  Do you understand?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Okay.  Tell me about the first time you realized that Justin was more than a trick.”_

_“When I woke up next to him the first morning; I’d let him stay the night, rather than kicked him out after I’d fucked him.  I let him shower, and I fucked him again in there before I took him to school, where I outed him to the entire student body with a smile on my face, and a pat on his little blond head.”_

_“Brian… you agreed to these therapy sessions.  Don’t waste my time by giving me shit while you are here.”_

_“Tit for tat, Alex; that’s what we agreed on.”_

_“Within reason, Brian; **that** was the agreement.  I told you that I won’t reveal what Justin has said, and I won’t let you use these sessions as an excuse to find out what the boy told me.”_

_“Tell me about Ethan, then.”_

_“He’s Justin’s friend; he’s grateful that Justin is a part of his life, and he supports him unquestioningly.  He admires his artistic talent.  What made you take Justin home the first time?”_

_“His appalling fashion sense.  How many times did Ethan fuck Justin?”_

_“That’s really none of your business anymore, Brian – if you want to know, just listen to Michael…oh, that’s right, you already did.  And look how well **that** turned out.  I told you – you can’t use these sessions to answer all of the questions that you have in regard to Justin.  So, are you ready to stop wasting my time yet?”  _

_“His innocence; I could all but taste it on him as he leaned against the streetlight.  He fucking glowed that night, and I was as high as I’d ever been.  I’d never looked at chicken before; twinks do nothing for me, but there was just something about him.  I **had** to have him.”_

_“Once.”_

_“What?”_

_“Ethan fucked Justin… once.  Those were the **rules** , right?”_

_“…Oh.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“Have you seen Justin?”_

_“No.  He still refuses to talk to me.”_

_“So, he’s not doing his sessions?”_

_“Tell me why you let Michael get away with trying to run your life.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean, Brian, that you let the man dictate how you perceive yourself.  Do you really think that I haven’t heard Michael spout off about the fact that you are the **Stud** of Liberty Avenue?  That you don’t do love, or boyfriends, or commitment?  He’s half the reason why you are here now.”_

_“I **don’t** do…”_

_“Don’t waste my fucking time, Brian!  You told me that you were willing to fight for Justin – all I see before me right now is a man who is shit scared of letting someone in behind his walls in case they hurt him.  I told you once that for someone who has enough disorders to merit his own classification in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, that you were one of the most well-adjusted and high-functioning bastards that I knew._

_“I was **wrong** , Brian – you’re not functioning at all, and the series of hopeless addictions that you are so well known for?  They’ll probably end up killing you.  You need therapy even more than Justin, and if you want a chance in hell of getting him back, then you have to change some of those addictions.”_

_“How the hell am I meant to change my addictions, Alex, when the biggest one I **have** is Justin?” _

_“If you think that your biggest addiction is Justin, then you are well and truly fucked.  You’re beyond even MY help.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Your biggest addiction isn’t fucking or drugs and drinking or even Justin – no, Brian.  Your biggest addiction is to the **myth** of who people think Brian Kinney is.  Until you learn to stop using that myth as a crutch, you will never be able to move forward; you will never regain Justin’s love or trust, and he will continue to walk away from you.”_

_“How…”_

_“By being **honest** with me, Brian; by not allowing Michael to put you up on the pedestal that you can no longer climb down from.  By not allowing him to tear apart the man you have proclaimed to love.  Justin defended you so often, Brian, to the people in his life.  Yet you stood back and let Michael treat Justin like shit.  What is it that Michael has on you?”_

_“He was the place I could go to as a kid; I owe him and Debbie.”_

_“You don’t owe them shit, Brian, least of all the pound of flesh that Michael seems determined to strip from Justin’s bones.  It’s high time you learned that; ask Debbie what you owe her for looking after you as a kid.  I’ll talk to you in twelve months when you wake up from the smack to the back of the head that she will undoubtedly give you for asking such a stupid question.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“Have you seen him?”_

_“No.  Sam picked up Justin’s script for his antidepressants this morning.  Tell me when you knew you had feelings for him.”_

_“…”_

_“Brian?”_

_“When I kept fucking him after that first morning; he chased me the first time, but after that?  I kept pulling him back into my bed.”_

_“Was it because you were the first man to touch him?”_

_“Maybe… I don’t know.  He was… refreshing, you know?  He wasn’t… all posturing.  He couldn’t hide how he reacted to what I did to him.  I loved how it made me feel when he was so fucked out, that he’d become this sticky, whimpering mass of limbs that couldn’t string two words together.  But he could moan my name like it was the only word he was capable of speaking.  Any other trick, and it was ‘more’, ‘harder’, ‘oh, Jesus’.  But Justin… he would get so lost in sensation, that my face was all he saw.  Not my reputation – he saw **me**.”_

_“How did that make you feel?”_

_“Tell me about Ari.”_

_“Brian…”_

_“Tit for tat, Alex.”_

_“I met Ari when he was eighteen.  I was twenty-nine, and I fell for him so fast that I back peddled, and held him at arm’s length.  He was a kid – what did he know about love?  Enough to know that I was all he wanted or needed.  I didn’t trust that; I said I wanted an open relationship, that I was happy to keep fucking him, but I wanted to fuck other men, too.  He loved me so much that he agreed to it._

_“For a  year, that’s how we lived.  But bit by bit, he broke my walls down.  By the time we had been together for two years, we were fully monogamous; living together, fucking raw, the whole shebang.  Then Ricky came back to the Pitts. He’d been living in New York for the last couple of years, and when he came home, he had decided that it was time for us to stop playing games and be together.  I wasn’t interested -  I had the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my bed._

_“But he was persistent - Ricky pushed and prodded and tugged at the string that held our relationship together until he found the end.  He constantly reminded me that Ari was too young; too inexperienced for a man my age.  That I should let him fuck around with younger guys, until he got it out of his system.  That I shouldn’t be tying myself down, either – I was a gay man, for fuck’s sake, it was my God-given right to fuck as many men as I wanted.  And like the idiot I was, I listened to him; he was my best friend – why would he try to hurt me?_

_“So, I told Ari that I was going to start tricking again.  And before I knew it, we had unraveled.  Ari moved out; he said that he was sick and tired of being in a relationship that consisted of three people.  I let him go; I figured he’d fuck around, and them come back to me when we had both gotten it out of our systems.  Instead, he met a man named Grant a few months later – he was older than me by a couple of years.  He took one look at Ari and scooped him up – he offered him everything I had taken away from him.  Love, stability, a partnership.  Respect.  Respect that he knew his own mind._

_“By the time I figured out that tricking was stale – that fucking anonymous asses wasn’t as exciting or as fulfilling as fucking the one man who knew every single inch of my body; by the time I figured out what I had let Ricky do, it was too late.  Grant had asked Ari to move in with him.  I’m not ashamed to admit, Brian – I **begged** him to come home to me.  He asked me why should he walk away from the man who had taken a broken boy and freely given him love, when I was the reason he had been broken in the first place?_

_“They, uh… they got married last year.  They had a little girl, via surrogacy.  And Grant reminds Ari every day how much he loves him, how much he appreciates him.  And **I’m** reminded every day that I had that beautiful man, and I threw him and the love he so freely offered me away.  That it could have been me that Ari married.  That he had children with.  I could have had what Grant has if I had just listened to my heart, instead of listening to every other bastard out there.”_

_“Where’s Ricky now?”_

_“I don’t know.  I don’t care.  He got what he wanted – I fucked him, and then told him to fuck off.  I haven’t spoken to him in the five years that Ari and Grant have been together.”_

_“Five years? And you still love him?”_

_“I’ll love Ari until the day I die, Brian.  To me?  He’s irreplaceable.  Your time’s up.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“Have you seen him yet?”_

_“No.  Why are you afraid of letting people know that you love them?”_

_“I tell Michael all the time that I love him.”_

_“Are you being deliberately obtuse?”_

_“If I tell Justin that I love him, then he has the ability to utterly destroy me.  I’m not willing to give him that power over me.”_

_“Why do you think that Justin would hurt you, Brian?”_

_“He already has, Alex.  When he humiliated me at Babylon by letting Ethan kiss him in front of every fag on Liberty Avenue.”_

_“And you don’t think that fucking Rage in front of those same fags humiliated **him**?”_

_“That’s different.  That guy was just a trick.”_

_“No, Brian, he wasn’t.  He was a message that you sent to Justin, and he received it loud and clear.  Why do you think he let Ethan kiss him?”_

_“At the time, I thought it was because he was choosing Ethan over me.”_

_“Message sent and received, Brian.  Cause and effect – you left Justin with no choice when you fucked Rage, and he deliberately hurt you the only way he knew how.  It wasn’t like he could fuck another guy – you’d already done that, and everyone knew it.  The same as everyone knew about the rules, thanks to Michael running his mouth; everyone knew that you didn’t kiss tricks anymore.  Justin kissing Ethan was his answer to the unspoken question you asked of him when he saw you with Rage – he was no longer willing to put up with you hurting him every time you felt threatened.”_

_“Michael said he had seen Justin and Ethan kissing in the street.  What was I **meant** to think?”_

_“Are you telling me, Brian, that **that** is what caused you and Justin to implode?  A kiss?”_

_“Michael said that Justin and Ethan were seeing each other – I had no reason not to believe him.  He’s my best friend; he’s always looked out for me.  While I hate what he said to Justin, when he told me about Ethan kissing Justin, he was only looking out for my best interests.”_

_“No, Brian, he wasn’t.  He was looking out for his own.  He hated Justin; he made no secret of that.  You have to remember, Brian; Justin was my patient for three months, and he spoke a lot about how Michael treated him.  He spoke a lot about how **you** let Michael get away with treating him the way he did.  Michael resented Justin’s place in your life, the way a toddler resents its sibling taking their favorite toy.”_

_“…Do you know why Ethan kissed Justin?”_

_“Yeah, I do, Brian.  Ethan had been away for a few days, and when he caught up with Justin on the street that day, it was the first time he had seen the posters for Rage, and the completed comic.  He was congratulating Justin on his… accomplishment; telling his friend how fucking **proud** he was of him, to have faced his biggest nightmare.  That’s why he kissed Justin, Brian.”_

_“….I… I didn’t…”_

_“You know, Brian, when you hold a mirror up to the truth, the reflection you get back is uglier than the lie you put your faith in.  You should have spoken to Justin, instead of listening to Michael.  Maybe if you had had the same amount of faith in Justin that he had once had in you, you wouldn’t be in this position now.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“Before you ask, no, I haven’t seen Justin.  Why did you persist in taking tricks back to the loft after you and Justin made those rules?”_

_“Because it’s where I live?”_

_“No, Brian – you have the baths and the backroom for tricks.  Try again.”_

_“Because it’s where I live.”_

_“So, it wasn’t a message to Justin?”_

_“What the fuck?”_

_“Justin said that he didn’t want, nor did he expect you to change; he just didn’t want to come home and have your tricking shoved in his face.  So why did you persist in taking your tricks back to the loft?  In fucking them in the bed you shared with the boy?  In leaving the dirty sheets on the bed that you expected him to share with you?”_

_“….”_

_“I know about the ‘dates’, Brian; about the games you played with Justin.  The tricking.  You had it all in him; a beautiful young man who was willing to take you any way he could.  So why did you persist in fucking guys at the loft?  Was it a message to him?  That he would never really ‘have’ you?  That the loft was **your** home?  But not his.  Only yours; you could do whatever the hell it was you wanted, and he just had to go along with it.”_

_“….I thought he wanted more than I was willing to give.”_

_“He didn't want that much from you, Brian.  You only thought that he did.  You were the one with all the romantic ideas; the one saying that Justin wanted romance and flowers and monogamy.  And maybe he did want those things at some point, but do you know what he wanted more?  You.  He was willing to accept you just as you were, even though it meant having to change how he felt about certain things.  He was willing to make those concessions for you; you weren’t willing to make the same concessions for him.”_

_“I didn’t know how to be in a relationship.  He was my first one.”_

_“No he wasn’t, Brian.  You’ve been in a faithful, long-term friendship with Michael since you were fourteen years old.  So, don’t tell me that you’ve never had a relationship before.  Tell me something; if you saw some guy treating Michael…no, let’s use your **son** as the example.  If you saw some guy treating Gus the way you treated Justin, what would you do?”_

_“That’s not fair, Alex!  Gus is just a kid!”_

_“…So was Justin.”_

_“What is your fucking problem!?”_

_“My problem, Brian, is that you aren’t being honest with me; and by not being honest with me, you aren’t being honest with yourself.  I want you to think about why you react the way you do, why you deliberately push people away.  I told you – if you want a chance at getting him back, you have to look at why your relationship with Justin fell apart the way it did.  Do you think you can grow a pair of balls and do that?”_

_“….Yeah…”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“I grew up in an abusive household.  My father was a drunk who beat me for sport, and loved to tell me that my mother should have had an abortion when she found out she was pregnant with me.  My mother is a drunk, who hides behind the church, and wields her faith like a weapon; she would rather curl up inside a sherry bottle; that’s how she dealt with the fact that her husband was a violent prick who hated her for trapping him into a marriage he didn’t want.  My sister is a useless cunt, and her kids will probably grow up to become serial killers.  The first person who ever showed me love was Michael.”_

_“So, your childhood sucked ass.”_

_“Understatement.”_

_“You know what I don’t understand, Brian?  You got out; you went to college, and you’ve made yourself into a very successful businessman.  You have forged a new family for yourself.  And you had the envy of nearly every second man on Liberty Avenue, because of your looks, your talent, and the fact that you had Justin in your bed.  So why are you still letting your parents ruin your life?”_

_“I’m not – Daddy dearest is dead, and I haven’t spoken to my mother in over a year after she found out I was gay, and she told me that I was going to burn in hell for it.”_

_“Brian… you hide behind your self-imposed walls because you are afraid of being hurt; you learned to build these walls to hide how bad you had it growing up.  Yes, you had a really shitty childhood; there is no doubt.  But you can’t use that as an excuse to not let people get close to you.  Nor can you use it as an excuse as to why you treated Justin the way you did.”_

_“It’s easy for you to say that, Alex; you didn’t live it.”_

_“No, I didn’t.  What I had was foster home after foster home; between the ages of nine and eighteen, I lived with over fifteen different families.  I suffered sexual abuse when I was twelve and my foster daddy decided that he liked fucking little boys.  I was beaten, reminded that I was nothing more than a paycheck, and otherwise ignored._

_“The difference between us, Brian, is that I refused to let my childhood dictate who I was going to become as a **man**.  I went into psychology so that I could help people who suffered the same way that I did.  Was it scary opening myself up to the chance of love with Ari?  Yes, it was.  Do I regret it?  No.  Even after I lost him, how can I regret loving him while I had the chance?  Am I open to loving someone else?  I don’t know; not while I still love him the way I do, but maybe someday.”_

_“I didn’t know.”_

_“It’s not something I put on my business card, Brian; my point is, stop letting your parents and your past tell you who you are as a **man**.  Stop letting Michael tell you who you should be as an adult.  You need to figure out who Brian Kinney is; your persona, your reputation, the driving need to prove your parents wrong… those are all obstacles that are standing between you and Justin.  The question you should be asking yourself is **why** did Justin love you?  What did he see behind the walls that made him fall so in love with you, that he willingly changed who he was as a person in an effort to make you happy?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“Brian; Justin wouldn’t talk about you in therapy with me, because he viewed it as the ultimate betrayal.  But he did discuss you with Ethan, Sam, and Daphne.  They in turn, told me what was said.  He told Ethan that the thing he had always admired about you the most wasn’t the size of your dick, or your prowess in bed.  It was your unfailing loyalty to your family and your friends.  He saw through your walls like they didn’t even exist; how did he get behind them?”_

_“I don’t know.  If I knew the answer to that question, Alex, maybe I could be the person he saw.”_

_“Daphne saw that person the night of Prom, Brian.”_

_“And look how well that fucking night turned out.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“Why didn’t you celebrate Justin’s birthday?”_

_“Because I only celebrate achievements.”_

_“But how can you measure what Justin has achieved, when he is barely an adult?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Brian, your relationship with Justin was always an unstable power play between a man and a boy on the brink of adulthood.  What you perceive as weaknesses in Justin are things that are completely beyond his control.  As the adult in the relationship, you held all the power over him; you were in a high paying job.  He worked at a diner, where the fact that he has an amazing ass and smile was ninety percent of the reason he was tipped so well; that only reinforced how he feels about himself now._

_“You own your own home; from the moment he came out as gay, Justin has never had any control over where he lived.  He bounced between you and Debbie from the minute he was kicked out of his home, until the moment he left you.  He never felt like the loft was his home – he felt like it was only yours, and that the reason you bought tricks back to the loft was to remind him of that – this it was your home, and if you didn’t like it, there was the unlocked door._

_“How can you measure what he has accomplished at seventeen or eighteen or nineteen, when you are measuring it unfairly by what you have accomplished at the age of thirty and thirty-one?  Think back – what had **you** accomplished at that age?  Other than the beginnings of your reputation and your education?  If you look at it like that, he’s run circles around you – he’s a published artist, who has sold his art for profit.  He was accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country.  You were so caught up in what everyone **else** expected you to do for his birthday, that you didn’t even think to ask Justin what **he** wanted.”_

_“I… I thought he wanted romance.  Roses.”_

_“Jesus, Brian.  The boy has to take two different allergy pills every day – I know what Justin wanted from you for his birthday, and it wasn’t flowers.”_

_“What did he want?”_

_“Peace, Brian.  Just a quiet day for the two of you; where you watched TV and ordered dinner in.  Spent the day fucking.  Maybe smoked some choice pot.  Those were Justin’s words, Brian – his **exact** words.  He would have been happy with a new sketch pad and some pencils; but again, you don’t celebrate birthdays, only achievements.  _

_“So, I’ll give you an achievement - if Chris Hobbs had hit him even a centimeter more to the right, he wouldn’t have even **been** there to celebrate his nineteenth birthday.  He survived a boy bashing his skull in because he had been outed to the entire school.  He survived having permanent brain damage – a fucking artist, Brian, having to relearn how to even **hold** a pencil?  But he hasn’t achieved anything…has he?”  _

_“That’s not fucking fair, Alex!  He should have **said** something to me!”_

_“When Justin started therapy with me, Brian, I told him that he had to be the one who was willing to start talking, instead of bottling it up inside.  He told me that unless the other person was willing to listen, unless they were willing to hear what he **was** saying, what was the point?  Justin is a young man who has had to fight for too long and too hard for so little return.  And in the end?  He felt like no one heard him, even when he was screaming at the top of his lungs.  He gave up, Brian.  Long before his birthday, he gave up trying to be heard.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

**_“_ ** _Have you…?”_

_“No.  He refuses to talk to me.  I spoke with Daphne, and she and the boys are continuing to live by his therapy rules.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“So, what happened with Gary Saperstein, Brian?”_

_“…”_

_“There are a lot of rumors floating around.”_

_“Back when Justin was dancing at Babylon, Gary asked him to dance at one of his private parties.  Justin agreed, and while he was there, Gary drugged him.”_

_“Shit.”_

_“Justin told Emmett that Gary tried getting him into a sex swing, even though he was saying no.  The guys who were there were saying that they wanted to try out Kinney’s private stock; Gary referred to Justin as a party favor.  Another dancer was already being raped, and Justin got out of there by the skin of his teeth.”_

_“ **Shit** … that’s what he meant.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Justin said that he had had a hard-enough time being called your whore when you were together; we touched on it briefly again after that, and he said that he wasn’t a rent boy, even though someone had once tried using his ass as a party favor.  He had a bad session that day, and he shut down not long afterwards.”_

_“I never viewed Justin as a whore, Alex.”_

_“You might not have, Brian, but a lot of other people did.  And they weren’t shy about telling him that.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Jealous men, Brian.”_

_“Did Michael…?”_

_“Do you really have to ask me that, Brian?”_

_“Shit.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“When did you know you had feelings for Justin?”_

_“When he told me that he got 1500 on his SATs.  I told him he could go anywhere with a score like that, and he told me that he had applied to Dartmouth and Brown.  I damn near drove off the road.”_

_“He’s exceptionally smart.”_

_“Yeah, he is.  I was…agitated for most of the day; wondering which school he would go to – they were both out of state, and the thought of him leaving the Pitts made my head hurt.  He came over that night, and I damn near fucked him through the mattress and into the loft below mine.  By the time I calmed down, I’d already fucked him twice, and he was lying on his stomach in bed, so fucked out that he could barely move.  I asked him how many schools had come begging for his favor, and he shocked the shit out of me when he answered.  Did you know that Brown, Dartmouth, Harvard, Yale, and Stanford all offered him a place?”_

_“Daphne mentioned something about it.  What did you say to him about it?”_

_“I uh… I gave him a list of pros and cons for each school; he kept getting distracted because I was running my fingers up and down his spine.  But eventually he mentioned that he had also applied to PIFA; I couldn’t believe it – the fact that he might leave the Pitts for school was a very real thing, you know?  I  ended up teaching him a different lesson that night – how long could I make him hold out while I was rimming him?_

_“He made me proud – he lasted for quite a while, but he ended up coming so hard that he passed out when I was fucking him.  I can remember telling him that Stanford didn’t teach proper little gay boys about rimming while I was cleaning him up.  He was so fucked out that all he could do was whisper my name.  I told him that if he stayed, then his education would be second to none._

_“I cleaned up in the bathroom and when I came back to bed, I opened another condom and pushed back into his ass.  He always wanted to fall asleep with my cock inside him, but I didn’t want to risk hurting him, or losing the condom inside of him.  But I needed to be close to him that night – I held him for an hour, until I had completely softened and then I pulled out.  I held him all night; I watched him sleep until the sun rose.  That’s when I knew I was falling in love with him.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell him, Brian?”_

_“What if he left me?”_

_“Brian…”_

_“Hind sight is called a bitch for a reason, Alex; I know that better than anyone.  I was so fucking scared he’d leave me, that he’d be able to hurt me if I told him I loved him, that I kept it from him.  I kept him at arm’s length; I know I hurt him by doing that; I’m not completely ignorant.  And he left me anyway; he left me, not because I tricked or because I fucked up with him so many times.  He left me because he asked me if I would care if he was gone… and I told him that I wouldn’t.  He left me because the one thing that would have made all the other shit worthwhile is the one thing that I refused to tell him.”_

_“Lesson learned, Brian?”_

_“Yeah… lesson learned.”_

_“Would you tell him if he walked through the door right now?”_

_“If I thought that he’d believe me?  Yeah.  But I know he wouldn’t.  I know that he thinks that all he was to me was a convenient fuck.  Short of getting on my hands and knees and begging, which, let’s face it, I’ll never fucking do, I don’t know how else to even start getting him to reopen the door to me, Alex.”_

_“Brian?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“I never thought I’d beg, either.”_

_“Shit.”_

_“Yeah.”_


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Author’s note – Candy, thanks for your line, hon. Told you I’d slip it in there somewhere. ;)

Lindsay huddled deeper into her jacket against the fresh wind and checked the time on her watch again.  It had been three weeks since the night Deb had called the family together to let them in on the secret that she had been keeping, and they were all still in a state of shock.  Public personas had been destroyed within the few sentences that Debbie had uttered that night, and none of them had been the same since. 

Emmett had all but lost his sparkle, and he and Ted had both quietly admitted that they were deeply ashamed of how they had been so flippant about Justin’s feelings.  Whether it had been about his relationship with Brian or his feelings regarding the bashing, both men felt like they had let Justin down, and were at a loss as to how to move past it so they could possibly help the boy.  Worse than that, they both felt they were partially to blame for how little faith Brian had in his own abilities to grow up and become the partner that Justin had once wanted. 

Lindsay had been both hurt and embarrassed to learn that Justin didn’t trust her; she couldn’t help recognizing the irony.  The only good thing to have come from that family meeting was that it had forced her and Mel to address several issues within their own relationship.  Lindsay had spent several hours putting Mel’s uncertainties to rest, and for the first time since she had met him, Mel no longer looked at Brian and feared the unspoken.

The other issue they had addressed had been why Lindsay had insisted that Brian father Gus, despite the way Mel felt about him.  Lindsay had admitted that it was because she had known how bad Brian’s childhood had been, and that she knew that Brian would do anything within his power to ensure that Gus grew up happy and loved should anything happen to either her or Mel.  Mel had felt like an utter asshole afterward, and had made a heartfelt vow to put aside her fears and grow the hell up.   

Lindsay had also admitted that she relied too heavily on Brian.  Not only financially, even after she and Mel had forced him to sign over his rights, but emotionally, too.  She confessed that she had been slightly jealous when Brian and Justin continued to see each other, and had feared that Brian would ignore Gus in favor of the boy.  Those feelings had caused her to turn a blind eye to the shitty way Brian had behaved towards Justin when he felt like he had been backed into a corner. 

She hadn’t taken into account how poorly that had reflected upon her.  While telling Brian to indulge Justin’s need for reassurance, she had been saying to Justin that Brian would never change and that he shouldn’t expect him to.  Justin’s birthday had probably been the last straw when she had encouraged him to pursue Ethan, only to then turn around and ignore him when he left Babylon with the other boy.  In Justin’s eyes, Lindsay’s betrayal in regard to Ethan had cut far too severely for the boy to forgive. 

Lindsay sighed as she thought about Brian – he was the one whose image had been altered the most.  He still wasn’t talking to Michael, and could barely bring himself to speak to her, let alone confide in her the way he had once done.  Yet he spent several nights a week at the home she shared with Mel, closeted in Gus’s room as he held his son and breathed in the sweet scent of talc and innocence while silently mourning the loss of his other boy.

Brian had admitted that he had seen Justin in Boytoy; had seen him, and touched him, and heard the pain the boy had successfully hidden from him for so long in his voice.  The Brian Kinney who had walked into Boytoy that night was not the same man who walked out.  Forced to face the pain that he had helped cause had changed Brian on a level that made Lindsay uncomfortable.

She had always wished that Brian would grow up a bit, but seeing firsthand the effects it had had on the man, Lindsay regretted the way she had handled things.  He was still sarcastic, and could always make you feel an inch tall with nothing more than a cold look.  But there was palpable heartache that he couldn’t hide in those eyes now.  The second change had come when Brian had abruptly stopped going to Babylon.

The rumors had run rampage up and down Liberty Avenue; Brian had stalked into Babylon and had been seen talking to Gary near the bar.  But when Brian had suddenly reared back and punched Gary out?  That was when many a man had all told the same story – Brian had been overheard shouting that if Gary ever tried laying his hands on Justin again, Brian would personally burn Babylon to the ground.  He had called Gary a rapist, and warned those within earshot that any of the go-go boys who went to his private parties were at risk of being drugged and gang-raped.  

Those rumors had spread like wildfire, and Babylon had suddenly become a ghost town.  Brian didn’t need to threaten Gary’s business; he just needed to make it known what Gary had done to the young men that had suddenly stopped working for him after attending his private parties, and were quickly replaced with fresh faces.  Dancers, like Justin.  Gay men could be bitchy, but they hated being victimized even more than they hated the appearance of wrinkles – from what Lindsay had heard, Babylon was sinking fast, no matter how much money Gary threw at it.

Then there was the family, who as a whole were still upset with Michael; the man had personally gone to Jennifer’s house to apologize to her, and had had his face slapped for the effort.  Michael had since kept his head down and his mouth shut; he had gone to his mother after his fight with Brian, and she had smacked the side of his head in an attempt to instill some ‘think before you speak’ sense into him.  Ben had said that Michael should wait until Brian approached him; he finally understood the damage his words and actions had caused – not only to Justin but to Brian as well.  

Alex had told Michael that his relationship with Brian was unhealthy and that they depended upon each other far too much.  They needed to learn to be independent of each other so that their personal relationships had a chance of actually working.  Lindsay had thought that Michael would have a fit over that, but for once the man had actually listened.  Michael was apparently thinking about talking to Alex on his own, so that if Justin did come back into their lives, Michael would know how to apologize correctly and be the friend that he should have been all along.  

Lindsay sighed softly as she squinted into the weak sunlight; Alex wasn’t pleased with any of them.  After Michael had approached him at school, and then upon seeing Brian with Alex at Boytoy, Justin had stopped going to his therapy sessions.  From what Lindsay understood, Daphne had only just managed to prevent Justin from going on a pain management binge; but in the following days, he had taken several steps backward.  He had locked himself away after seeing Brian; had curled up in bed and refused to even look at Alex, let alone speak to him.  His aversion to touch was back in full swing.  And Justin’s friends had circled the wagons accordingly.

Daphne had stalked into the Diner on Thursday, and when she had found Alex sitting with Brian, the resulting confrontation had escalated into a full-blown screaming match.  Daphne had laid it out from between gritted teeth in terms even a simpleton could understand – that considering that _she_ was the one who was currently spoon-feeding an almost comatose Justin, the rest of the family could go and fuck themselves.  They had wanted Justin out – he was out.  The family wasn’t getting back in; so she demanded that they stay the hell away.

Then Daphne’s eyes had come to rest upon Brian, and the girl had spoken in a controlled voice as she called him an outright coward.  Daphne had told him he was so fucking scared of what everyone else thought about him that he had pushed the best thing that could have ever happened to him away.  She hoped that it haunted him, that it kept him awake at night, the way that it did Justin.  She hoped that he dreamed about it, and woke up screaming the way that Justin did. 

She hoped that Brian would learn what it felt like to be considered not enough for someone, the way he had taught Justin that he hadn’t been enough for him.  She hoped with all that she was that someday Brian would meet someone that he loved so much that he would twist himself into someone unrecognizable, only to be thrown away like yesterday’s garbage.   Just like he had done to Justin.  

Daphne had paused to take a breath as Brian had stared at her woodenly before she had turned on her heel and walked out without another word.  And Brian?  Brian had spent the following three days drunk out of his mind.  The Brian Kinney who eventually turned up on their doorstep asking to spend some time with his son, had looked like he had been dragged backward through hell and was still feeling the afterburn.

It had been Brian’s idea for what she was doing today; misery had coated the man as he had laid it out for Lindsay and Mel.  Mel and Emmett were the only ones he felt he could trust when it came to Justin, and in Mel and Lindsay, he had a bargaining chip that he was sure would bring Justin a step closer to the family, and in turn, to Brian himself.  Mel hadn’t liked the idea, but the naked desperation in Brian’s eyes had finally swayed her.

Lindsay tucked her hair behind her ear as she thought back to the night Brian had said that.  In all the years that they had been friends, never had she felt that she would lose Brian’s trust.  It was her own fault; after saying that there could be no more secrets, Brian had asked her if there were any conversations that had occurred between her and Justin that he should know about.  Conversations that he should have been made aware of that might have changed how things turned out. 

They had talked late into the night; half-remembered conversations and troubling thoughts came flooding out in her kitchen, and Lindsay had watched Brian pale when she had told him that yes, Justin had asked her to talk with him about the bashing once, only to be turned down.  Mel said that Justin had never approached her about it, but then they had spoken about the law and what Justin’s options were for a civil case, so she figured that Justin had thought her feelings about the bashing would probably match Lindsay’s.

But when it came to light that it had been Lindsay who had encouraged Justin in regard to Ethan, the look that had crossed Brian’s face told her that he would never forgive her.  Oh, he’d move on.  He’d never mention it.  But he would never forgive her for her hand in the destruction that had fallen down upon his and Justin’s heads.  Lindsay hadn’t been able to apologize enough, but as Mel said, the damage had already been done months ago.  It had left her with the bitter taste of shame in her mouth, and the burning need to make things right.     

Lindsay pushed all thoughts of Brian away and blew out an unsteady breath when she caught sight of Justin walking towards her in the distance.  His shoulders were rounded, and he seemed to be hunched in on himself.  While the wind was brisk, it wasn’t all that cold.  No, this was something else entirely.  The need to wrap her arms around him became a physical ache when Lindsay saw how thin Justin had become; how pale his skin appeared, and how shadowed his eyes were.  

She knew that she was taking a significant risk coming here, but the driving need to reach out to him could no longer be ignored.  She knew the exact moment that Justin spotted her, because he stopped dead in his tracks.  Lindsay felt her eyes flutter slightly when Justin looked both left and right for a possible escape route.  And when he looked back towards her with anxiety clearly stamped across his pale features, Lindsay bent down to the stroller and picked Gus up.

The look that crossed Justin’s face when he caught sight of Gus broke Lindsay’s heart; sheer longing shone in his eyes.  She continued to sit at the picnic table, and Justin took a few hesitant steps towards her before he stopped again.  His eyes darted around the area surrounding Lindsay, and she hissed out a breath when she realized that Justin was apparently checking to see if he was about to be ambushed.  A few more steps, and then his shoulders slumped, and his chin dropped to his chest in defeat as his demons overtook the courage he had shown.

Looking at him, loving him like he was her own flesh and blood, Lindsay carefully settled Gus back into the stroller as Justin peeked up at her.  She could see that he was literally fighting to stay where he was when Gus was mere meters away from him; his hands clenched and relaxed several times as he shifted from foot to foot, and his eyes continued to dart from Gus to the surrounding area.  And when Justin finally locked eyes with her, Lindsay smiled at him gently, before she picked up her handbag and taking a deep breath, she turned and walked away.

She had barely taken a dozen steps when she heard the soft thud of running feet, and glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Justin skidded to his knees beside the stroller she had left Gus in.  She saw Gus look up as Justin wrenched the beanie he was wearing off, and as all that blond hair swung around his face, she heard Gus break into happy baby prattle as his hands rose into the air and made clenching motions.  Tears swam in her eyes as she watched Justin pick Gus up and fold him into his arms.  Justin sat back on his feet and buried his face in Gus’s neck, and those tears fell when Gus raised his hands, clutching handfuls of Justin’s hair in his hands before he buried his own face in Justin’s shoulder.

Walking to the picnic table that was a few more feet away, Lindsay sat down on the solid seat and settled her bag beside her as she continued to watch Justin and her son.  When Justin eventually lifted his face from Gus’s neck, the look on his tear-streaked face was one of pure love.  A genuinely happy smile teased his lips as he peppered kisses all over Gus’s cheeks that had the little boy squealing happily, and reciprocating with sloppy kisses of his own; as each of those slobbery kisses landed, Justin’s smile grew, until his own laughter mingled and echoed with Gus’s.

Justin eventually rose to his feet with Gus clutched securely in his arms;  Gus showed how happy he was with the situation by laying his head on Justin’s shoulder, while retaining a firm grip on the collar of Justin’s hoodie.  And when Justin looked towards Lindsay, she smiled again and pointed to the stroller Justin was standing beside.  His eyebrows drew together, but when he glanced down at the seat of the stroller, he saw the folded sheet of paper with his name on it.

For a long moment, Lindsay didn’t think that Justin would pick the note up, let alone read the words she had so carefully penned.  Words that were seared into her mind, like the ink on the paper, and she silently willed him to be brave enough to reach out.  And when he shifted Gus to his hip and slowly reached down, Lindsay thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest as a broad grin flashed across her features in the face of his courage.  Lindsay held her breath as he flipped the paper open, and she watched as his eyes moved as he read.

_Hi, Cutie._

_Are Mel and I still allowed to call you that, Justin?  I hope so – to us, you’ll always be the cutie who loved our son so openly.  I know that you don’t want to talk to me; I don’t like it, but I’ll respect your boundaries.  I know that you won’t accept my apologies and that you don’t want to hear any excuses; I understand that, and won’t make it harder for you.  So instead, I offer you this – I know that you have an hour or so between classes on a Monday.  Can I meet you here, the way I have today so that you can spend that time with Gus?  He’s missed you as much as I am sure you’ve missed him.  I’ll stay right here; you can take our boy to get some lunch.  The diaper bag is by the stroller; I’ll wait, and I won’t interfere.  Let me know if this is something that I can do for you._

_Love, Lindsay._

Justin’s eyes flew back towards hers, and Lindsay merely raised her eyebrows.  She got her answer when Justin slowly slid his portfolio off his shoulder and rested it against the stroller; he picked the diaper bag up and slung it over his shoulder before rubbing his nose over Gus’s cheek as Gus’s giggles echoed lightly on the wind.  Shifting Gus on his hip, Justin turned slightly to glance at Lindsay with an unreadable expression on his face, before he nodded and then turned and walked away.  Lindsay waited until Justin was well out of sight before she pulled her cell phone out of her bag and dialed.

_“What do you want?”_

Lindsay smiled as she stretched her legs out and crossed her feet at the ankles.

“To tell you that your son is with your boy.”

Lindsay smiled faintly when she heard Brian’s breathing stutter on the other end of the phone, and she shifted slightly on the seat.

“I didn’t approach him, Brian,” she said gently when Brian didn’t say anything.  “I waited for him to see me here at PIFA like we discussed before I left Gus in his stroller and walked away a few yards.  I left Justin a note, telling him that I would wait for him to take Gus to lunch, and that if he were agreeable to it, I would continue this visitation for him every Monday.”

She heard the shaky breath that Brian let out, and when he finally spoke, she could hear how tightly he was holding onto his emotions.

“ _How… how did he_ …”

“He’s thin, Brian… really thin,” Lindsay said softly.  “He’s hunched in on himself; his aversion to being touched wasn’t present with Gus, but I could see how much he was struggling.  You called it fight or flight?  He was very much in flight mode when he saw me.  I honestly think that if I hadn’t had Gus here, he would have taken off in the other direction.  But you were right; his love for Gus far outweighs his distrust in me.”

Lindsay heard Brian sigh before he spoke hoarsely.

_“I don’t want to manipulate him, Linds, but if that’s what it takes to get him to talk to Alex again, then I’m willing to do anything.”_

Lindsay licked her lips before she shook her head and gave into the burning curiosity that swam in her blood.

“Brian… did you actually tell Alex what you had asked me to do?”

Brian coughed, and she heard him mutter something unsavory under his breath.

_“Yeah.  Alex said it was worth trying,”_ Brian said finally.

Lindsay gazed off into the distance, while Brian maintained his silence on the other end of the phone.  But then Brian swore softly, and Lindsay closed her eyes.

_“I’m in therapy with him.  Three times a week.  He told me once that for someone who has enough disorders to merit my own classification in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, I was one of the most well-adjusted and high-functioning bastards he knew.  He has since told me that I’m not functioning at all, and that my series of hopeless addictions will probably end up killing me._

_“He said that I needed therapy even more than Justin, and if I wanted a chance in hell of getting him back I had to change some of those addictions.  I asked him how the hell I was meant to change my addictions when the biggest one I had was to Justin, and he said that if I thought that my biggest addiction was to Justin, then I was well and truly fucked and that I was beyond even his help.  He said my biggest addiction wasn’t fucking or drugs and drinking or Justin – it was the fact that I’m addicted to the myth of who people think Brian Kinney is, and until I learn to stop using that myth as a crutch, I will never be able to move forward.”_

Brian laughed bitterly, and Lindsay sighed softly.

“Going to therapy, Brian, even though Justin doesn’t want anything to do with us?  It’s not a weakness,” Lindsay said softly.  “If anything, it shows just how much you love him, that you are willing to do this.”

The silence from the other end of the phone was so thick that Lindsay could all but taste it.

“Brian,” Lindsay said finally.  “Talk to me.”

Brian hissed out an unhappy breath, but remained silent as Lindsay shook her head.

“I know that you don’t…trust me right now,” Lindsay said finally.  “But I swear, Brian, I just want you to be happy.  I want you _both_ to be happy.”

Brian swore softly but finally began to speak.

“ _I was happy being the asshole_ ,” Brian said tentatively.  “ _I was happy living my life the way I did.  I didn’t care what anyone thought.  I had you, and I had Mikey, and I was happy not having to answer to anyone.”_

Brian fell silent, and Lindsay shifted her weight on the seat as she scanned the surrounding area to make sure that Justin wasn’t on his way back. 

“But then you met Justin,” she prompted when Brian remained silent, and Brian cursed her angrily.

_“But then I met Justin,”_ he mimicked sarcastically _.  “Alex said that I used my childhood as an excuse to not let people get close to me, but that is all it was, Lindsay.  A pathetic, fucking excuse.  Alex asked me why I allow my childhood to dictate the man I had become, and when I asked him what he meant, he told me that he had grown up in the foster system.  He was shuttled around from home to home; abused and beaten and ignored.  He refused to allow it to shape how he turned out like a man – so why was I letting my own parents ruin my life the way they did my childhood?_

_“I asked him what the hell he meant by that, and he said that my relationship with Justin had been an unstable power play between a man and a boy on the cusp of adulthood.  That what I had perceived as weaknesses in Justin were things that were beyond his control – where he lived, the money he was able to earn at seventeen, what he had accomplished in his life versus what I had done at the age of thirty.  How could I celebrate what Justin had accomplished, when I measured it by what I had?  He was right – I had refused to celebrate Justin’s birthday, because what had he really accomplished other than being born?_

_“I didn’t look at the fact that if Chris Hobbs had hit him even a centimeter more to the right, he wouldn’t have even **been** here to celebrate his nineteenth birthday.  Instead of showing Justin that I was proud of him, I showed him how little that survival actually meant to me when I refused to acknowledge his birthday.  Alex said that Justin is a young man who has had to fight for too long and too hard for so little return, and in the end, he basically gave up.  Who can blame him, Linds?  I had so many chances to change how he perceived himself.  Daphne was right; I was too much of a fucking coward to even try.”_

Lindsay blew out a deep breath when Brian fell silent, and when the dial tone abruptly sounded in her ear, she knew she had pushed Brian too far for comfort.  Closing her phone, she slipped it back into her bag and removed the book she had brought with her.  Settling down, she began to read not only to pass the time, but to keep her ass on the seat the way she had promised Justin she would.  She had barely read two pages, however, when a black leather studded boot came down onto the seat beside her from behind. Lindsay jumped to her feet in fright as the matching boot came down on her other side, and she spun around.

The young man who sat on the table top was toying with the piercing in his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, and he dragged belligerent green eyes over her form.  Lindsay lifted her chin in icy anger as she stared at him, and he chuckled softly as he raked his hands through tousled dark hair, before he casually rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle loosely between them.

“Justin was right – you do exude a ‘ _mother earth_ ’ vibe,” he said finally, and then offered Lindsay his hand.

Even as manners had her reaching out, Lindsay was desperately trying to figure out who the young man was.  He cleared that up quickly enough as their hands touched, and he offered her a small smile.

“Sam Whitney.”

“Ethan’s boyfriend,” Lindsay breathed, and Sam hummed softly as he let Lindsay’s hand go and tilted his head slightly.

“It’s a pretty sad state of affair that you’ll use your kid to get to Justin,” Sam said finally, and Lindsay flinched as he assessed her with a frank gaze.  “Justin was too happy to be with Gus again to figure it out, but Ethan and I were all over _that_ shit like white on rice,” he continued, and Lindsay lowered her eyes and exhaled heavily. 

“What else were we meant to do?” she asked finally and Sam snorted.

“Not fuck him over in the first place?” he suggested dryly, and when Lindsay fluttered her hands in open distress, Sam shrugged.

“I don’t like that you resorted to this.  I’ve never met the man, but this _coincidental_ meeting?  It has Brian Kinney written all over it.  Tell him from me; grow some _fucking_ _balls_ and quit with the whole cloak and dagger routine.  If he wants to try and see Justin, using Gus will only push Justin further away once he figures out that it’s a manipulation.”

“Brian tried talking to Justin at Boytoy,” Lindsay offered quietly, and Sam smirked.

“Uh huh… and look how well _that_ turned out,” he drawled and then leaned closer to Lindsay.  “You can’t ambush Justin; he doesn’t cope well when surprised.  We figured that out the _first_ day.  And that is something that none of you have considered – we’ve been there since he woke up in the hospital; you lot have only just come into the scenario, and he’s a different kid to the one you are used to manipulating,” Sam said, ignoring the indignant squawk that Lindsay made.  “You can’t come at Justin head-on anymore; you have to come at him sideways.”

“What do you mean?” Lindsay asked weakly, and Sam shrugged as he raised an eyebrow at her mockingly.

“You and I both grew up in the wasp set; stop thinking like a fucking lesbian, and start thinking like one of _them_ \- nothing pisses us off more than being challenged, especially when we are trying to handle our shit ourselves.  You might wanna remind Kinney of that.”

Sam slid from the table and turned to walk away.  Lindsay called out his name desperately, and when Sam glanced over his shoulder, Lindsay wrung her hands and then spoke plainly.

“Why are you helping him?  Brian, I mean.  I figured that you and Ethan would hate us… hate Brian… for what happened to Justin.”

“We do,” Sam said flatly as Lindsay abruptly looked away.  “I speak for Ethan, too, when I say that we would prefer Justin meet someone else and never again have to deal with the people you call _family_.  But Justin needs to confront Kinney; he might not want to, but he’s tried the whole _‘the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else’_ thing - that hasn’t worked, and it is detrimental to his recovery. 

“We’re desperate enough to get through to Justin that we will willingly put him in Kinney’s path if it means that he snaps out of the hold his depression currently has on him.  Confronting Kinney will help with that – it’ll remind Justin that he didn’t agree to hand his _balls_ to Kinney when the man took his cherry.  If nothing else, his anger at Kinney and your _family_ will override the fucking pit of misery he has fallen into.”

“Is he willing to speak to Alex again?” Lindsay asked as she tried to ignore the scorn she could hear in Sam’s voice whenever he referred to the family, but Sam shook his head.

“We’re working on it,” was all he said.

“What can we do to help?” Lindsay asked, and Sam snorted.

“Don’t mention our little chat for starters.  And don’t take Gus away from Justin again now that you’ve pulled this move; you said weekly visits on a Monday?  Stick to that plan.  It doesn’t interfere with his work schedule, as he doesn’t work Monday nights.  If all goes well, he also has Thursday afternoons free.”

“Where _is_ he working?” Lindsay asked, and Sam snickered as he shook his head.

“Nuh-uh, Sweetie – you can’t out-wasp a wasp like me; there is no way in _hell_ I’m revealing Justin’s safe places so that you can go running back to Kinney.  If Justin is pissed off enough to confront the man, he’ll do it on his timetable – not yours.” 

Sam turned as if to walk away, but then he glanced back at Lindsay.

“Justin is going to have to drop out of PIFA; his scholarship application was turned down, and he can’t afford to pay his school fees in the time frame they gave him.  I mean, asking a student to come up with nearly eight grand in the next week is pretty steep… don’t you think?  It’s such a pity, too; his work that was selected for the student art show next month is mind-blowing.”

Sam smiled slightly, and then walked away without further comment, leaving Lindsay to lunge for her handbag.  Her hands shook as she waited for the call to connect to Brian, and when it did, she blurted out what Sam had told her without taking a breath.  Brian hung up without comment, and Lindsay mentally crossed her fingers as she prayed that Sam’s interference would bring Justin back into their lives.


	13. Chapter 13

13.

_“What do you mean…my tuition has been paid?  I was told I had a week to pay, but I can’t afford it; I’m here to formally withdraw.”_

_“I don’t know what to tell you, Justin.  All I can say is that your tuition has been paid in full for the remainder of the school year.”_

_“Who paid it?”_

_“Now, Justin, you know that we can’t divulge…”_

_“ **Who paid it!** ”_

_“Calm down, okay?  I **really** shouldn’t be doing this, Justin.  I could get into **so** much trouble… Now let me see… Brian Kinney paid your tuition in full on Monday afternoon last week.” _

_“…..”_

_“Justin?  Are you all right?”_

_“I don’t want his money!  You can’t accept it… send his money back to him!”_

_“We can’t.  The money was already deposited.  There is nothing you can do.”_

_“I don’t want his money.  I **never** wanted his money!  Can I have the paperwork for the withdrawal?”_

_“Justin… an artist of your caliber should **not** be withdrawing.  Just accept what Mr. Kinney has done and be happy about it._

_“Just accept… fuck that!”_

_“Where are you going, Justin?”_

_“To tell him that I don’t have to accept shit!”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Justin… hi, how have you been?  I haven’t seen you for ages!”_

_“ Is he in, Cynthia?”_

_“No, sorry, sweetie.  He’s got a standing appointment that he goes to today; he generally works from the loft after that, so you’ll be able to catch him at home in an hour or so.”_

_“...Shit.”_

_“Do you want to leave him a message?”_

_“...No.”_

_“Justin… are you okay?”_

_“You know what, Cynthia?  I **will** leave him a message – tell him from me that ignorance is bliss.  He should have remained blissful.”_

_“Justin?”_

_“Goodbye, Cynthia.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

To say that he was agitated when he staggered into Alex’s offices was a gross understatement; Justin’s hands were clenched into fists, and he knew his rapid, labored breathing meant he was frighteningly close to having a full-blown panic attack.  Justin hadn’t even planned on coming to Alex; heading home and eating his weight in ice-cream had sounded like a better plan, but his feet had apparently decided on a different idea.

It had started at school, but he had reigned it in enough to get across town to Brian’s office.  But when he had learned that Brian hadn’t even been there, the feelings had snuck back in.  They had worsened when he left Brian’s office, and all it had taken was for a passerby to brush up against him and that had been it – the last few months of anger and misery had risen up and swallowed him whole.

Alex’s receptionist, an older woman named Peg, looked up when Justin lurched through the door; quickly standing up, she hurried around the edge of her desk as Justin leaned against the wall and tried to calm his breathing.  But when she gently laid her hand on his arm, his ability to fight back the panic disintegrated and Justin wrenched away from her touch, closing his eyes as he rested his burning face against the wall.

“Breathe, Justin,” Peg instructed firmly, and Justin fought back the whine that wanted to escape as his breath continued to erupt from his lungs in sharp little bursts.

He vaguely heard the click of her heels as she hurried across the office and briskly knocked on Alex’s office door.  Black spots swam across his eyes when he opened them, and Justin gagged slightly as the overly metallic taste of his own saliva flooded his mouth, causing him to slam his eyes back shut.  Soft murmurs echoed incoherently, and as he fought to stay upright he heard the sound of Alex’s voice rise over the noise in his head.

“Justin?”

A warm hand rested against his back, and Justin flinched away from it with something akin to a yelp.  He slid along the wall a few steps, tripping over his own feet in his haste to move away from the unwanted touch.  He had the vague impression of a new set of footsteps hurrying towards him, and a firm voice saying “move!” as he pressed his face against the wall and tried to regulate his breathing down from the broken gasps that continued to escape his mouth.

His flight-or-fight response kicked in as Justin pushed away from the wall.  It was then that the back of his neck was grasped firmly, and an arm was wrapped securely around his waist.  Unadulterated panic broke out and took over his mind; Justin stiffened momentarily before he began to struggle wildly as he was physically muscled into a dimly lit room.  He struck out violently and was pulled into the curve of a body that forcibly dropped to its knees and took him to his own with a painful thud.     

“Justin, stop!  Fucking breathe!”

Gasping, fighting to pull away, Justin vaguely wondered why he heard that voice; wondered why he was listening to it now as he was bodily dragged back in between muscular thighs before the hand on the back of his neck moved up to the back of his skull and shoved his head forward and between his own knees.  But then he couldn’t think at all, as the painful rasp of his breathing finally stuttered, and his inability to pull oxygen into his lungs took him from panic to darkness in the time that it took for him to unmistakably hear Brian whisper against his ear.

“Justin… come on, Sunshine, breathe!”

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

“Don’t touch him.”

Alex saw the feral glint in Brian’s eyes when Brian spoke, and he watched as the man tightened his arms around Justin’s limp body.  Brian sat on the ground with his back against the section of wall that formed a corner; wedged in, uncaring of how wrinkled his Armani was becoming, he sat with his legs spread, and Justin curled against his chest.  With his legs draped over Brian’s right thigh, Justin was as pale as Alex had ever seen him.  Brian shifted Justin slightly within his arms, and the hand that he lifted to smooth Justin’s hair back visibly trembled as he tucked Justin’s hair behind his ear.

“I need to check his pulse, Brian,” Alex said gently as he knelt down beside the pair, but Brian shook his head.

“He’s fine.”

“Brian, he passed out!” Alex exclaimed, but Brian laughed softly as he smoothed the tip of his thumb across the arch of Justin’s eyebrow, before tracing the sharp angle of his cheekbone.

“Do you really think that this is the first time I’ve seen this happen to him, Alex?” he asked quietly.  “Please.  This happened a couple of times after the bashing.  I’m just glad that he wasn’t at school, that he was present enough in his own mind to come here.”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, and Brian shifted Justin so that his head was resting against the curve of Brian’s neck.

“He loses the ability to judge shit properly; he becomes completely vulnerable to his surroundings.  That’s why he was so scared to be out on his own after he got out of the hospital.  He never knew when one of these panic attacks was coming on, and they would completely wipe him out.  Scared the shit out of me the first time it happened – it never got better after that.”

Alex shook his head as he shifted so that he was more comfortable on the floor.

“I’ve seen him have a panic attack before, Brian.  But this today?  That was something else entirely.”

Brian glanced at Alex and shrugged.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Alex; I’ve seen Justin shut down like this before.  I’ve been with him when he’s been unable to fight back the panic.  He’s all right.”

“So, what do we do now?” Alex asked.

Brian tilted his head slightly as he looked down at Justin before he finally looked back at Alex.

“There’s nothing you _can_ do; where is it that he lives with Daphne?” Brian asked, and Alex sighed as Brian raised his eyebrow.  “I know damn well that you wouldn’t have let him live alone after he was released from the hospital, Alex; I also know that he would have refused to move back in with his mother.  And after the ass kicking that Daphne gave me, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.”

Alex shook his head as Brian continued to toy with the soft blonde hair that he had tucked behind Justin’s ear.

“I can’t tell you where they live, Brian,” he said finally, and Brian nodded.

“Fine; but you might want to let Daphne know what has happened.  He generally sleeps hard for at least an hour after this happens, but he’s still pretty out of it afterward.  So, tell her from me – she has a choice.  Either I take Justin home to her.  Or I take him home with me.”

“Brian…” Alex began, only to have Brian shake his head.

“No,” he said firmly.  “We tried it your way – I stayed away from him.  I’m not staying away from him any longer; I’m not waiting like you did until some other fucker finds him and I lose him completely!”

“And if Justin _wants_ you to stay away from him?” Alex asked softly, and Brian laughed bitterly.

“I don’t care what Justin wants right now; he’s skin and bone.  I can tell just looking at him that he’s running on a mixture of coffee and Pop Tarts, and that he’s not sleeping properly.  Jesus, Alex, we’re talking about a kid who still watches cartoons in the morning while eating his fucking breakfast, and you expect me to stay away from him?  To let him continue living the way he is?  No… this shit stops _now_.  Get Daphne on the phone.”

Alex nodded as Brian turned to look down at Justin as he traced the skin under Justin’s eye lightly.  Standing up to leave the room, Alex heard Brian’s quiet murmur before he closed the door behind him.

“I tried it his way, Sunshine.  Now we do it my way.  You think you stalked me?  I’ll show you fucking stalking.  You won’t be able to take a fucking piss without me holding your dick for you.”

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

It started with a twitch of Justin’s hand against Brian’s stomach.  Hyper aware of every spasm that Justin had been making over the last thirty odd minutes, Brian tilted his chin and looked down at the mop of blond hair that was nestled so trustingly against his chest.  If you had asked him before Justin walked out if he would miss him if he left, Brian would have smirked and said no.  But now he knew differently; it wasn’t even the sex, although he missed that more and more every day. 

It was this; holding him, as the warmth of his body seeped into all the cold places that Brian had inside.  It was the look that would appear in those pretty blue eyes when Justin first woke up; naked and rumpled, with sleep blurring his gaze, Brian had been able to see what Justin no longer verbalized.  No matter how bad things had been between them at the end, that was the one time that Brian saw naked, honest emotion on Justin’s face.  

Justin’s hand twitched again, and Brian blew out a soft breath when Justin shifted slightly and curled further into Brian’s body.  However, when Justin’s hand rose and fisted in the silky material of Brian’s shirt, Brian knew that he had only moments left to bask in the feel of the slim body that he was holding.  Sure enough, as he looked down at Justin, the boy rolled his head back slightly so that it was resting against Brian’s shoulder and those sleepy blue eyes peered up at him from beneath gold-tipped lashes. 

Clouded over with the remnants of his panic attack, a small smile still curved Justin’s lips slightly as he smoothed his hand up over Brian’s chest.  His fingertips lightly grazed the skin where Brian’s shirt was open at the throat, and Brian swallowed when he saw the look that was reflected back at him from Justin’s eyes.  But even as something inside of him relaxed upon seeing it, the veil was slowly coming down over Justin’s face as awareness returned.  Brian tightened his hold on Justin’s body and spoke quietly.

“Don’t.  Just… don’t,” he managed, but Justin was already tipping his face downwards, and hiding his face from Brian’s view as the muscles in his body grew rigid.

A pale curtain of hair slid down over his cheek, and Brian reached across to tuck it back behind Justin’s ear with one hand, while the other tightened slightly around Justin’s shoulders.  Tucking his thumb under Justin’s chin, Brian nudged the boy’s face upwards; the smooth mask that he had grown to hate was back in place, as was the blank look in Justin’s eyes.  Hopelessness wanted to kick in, but the memory of what he had seen peeking out at him when Justin first woke lingered and gave Brian the metaphorical balls to speak.

“Justin, I’m sorry.”

It was whispered; gritted out from between clenched teeth, and Brian saw Justin’s eyebrow kick upwards slightly even as he firmly pushed away from Brian’s body.  Brian tightened his hold as Justin struggled to keep him at arm’s length. 

“What for?” Justin finally asked as he stared at Brian, who suddenly experienced a significant case of déjà vu as he recalled having a similar conversation with Justin before.

“You know what for,” he said finally.  “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“This?” Justin hissed; he showed no recollection whatsoever of the meaning behind Brian’s words as he pushed against Brian’s hold again.  “What do you mean… _this?”_

“Everything,” Brian said finally.

Justin scoffed as he finally succeeded in pushing free from Brian’s arms; Brian wondered how badly Justin would react if he told his former lover that he looked like a little blond sand crab as Justin scuttled a few inches out of Brian’s reach on his hands and knees.

“I didn’t realize that you were responsible for every decision I’ve made since I left, Brian,” Justin said quietly.  “But then again, with the size of YOUR ego, I’m not surprised that you blame yourself for every imaginary thing that could have gone wrong.  The thing is, I’m a big boy now; I make my _own_ decisions, and I live with the consequences,” he said as he rolled unsteadily to his feet.

“Including the consequences of trying to kill yourself?” Brian managed as he stood up; Justin staggered over to the desk and leaned against it, and he stilled for a long moment before he eventually looked over his shoulder to meet Brian’s eyes.

“Including those ones, too,” he said finally, as a ghost of a smile crossed his face when Brian recoiled at the confirmation of what Justin had done.

“Why?” Brian asked hoarsely.  “Why would you _do_ something like that, Justin?” and Justin shrugged as he looked away from Brian.

“I was tired.  I wanted to sleep,” he said finally, as he looked down at the surface of the desk he was leaning against. 

“So you tried to _what_?” Brian asked, and he took a few steps towards the blond as his voice began to rise.  “Go to sleep permanently?  You nearly fucking DIED!  Do you not understand what that would have done to everyone if you’d succeeded?  What knowing that you _wanted_ to die has done to everyone?”

Justin’s head snapped up, and heated color flashed across his cheekbones as he stared at Brian who stood there panting with his hands clenched.  And from deep inside, the anger rose up and ripped the scab off every swallowed word that Justin had ever held back.

“I didn’t _want_ to fucking die, Brian!  I just wanted to stop _feeling_ like I was going to!” he shouted; Brian’s teeth audibly clicked together and he snapped his jaw shut as Justin took a few steps towards him.

“You might be able to go back to how you wanted things to be with nothing more than a fucking _smile_ ,” Justin snarled, “but I fucking _loved_ you!  I loved you and loved you and loved you until I thought it would fucking kill me!  You have _no_ _idea_ how much it hurt me to walk away that night, Brian, but, hey!  You were back to status quo, right?  Do not talk to me about what it would have done to everyone if Ethan hadn’t found me that day, because not _one_ of you gave a shit about me before Alex opened his fucking mouth!”

“That’s not true, Justin,” Brian said shakily.  “We just didn’t know!  We would have been there if we’d known, _I_ would have…”

“Don’t delude yourself, Brian!” Justin interrupted.  “ _You_ would have _been_ there… that is such a crock of fucking shit!  Because I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in nearly four fucking months!”

“You left me!”

It was shouted, and in the silence that followed, Brian didn’t know whether to stand his ground as Justin gaped at him, or cut his losses and run.

“I left you…” Justin said slowly.  “Is that what you think?  No, Brian… I didn’t leave you.  How could I?  You left me long before I walked out of Babylon.”

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Brian asked, and Justin laughed in disbelief as he raised an eyebrow mockingly.

“You know, I should have figured out that I was just another fuck to you like everyone had told me so many times before.  But, no… I didn’t listen… I should have figured it out when you weren’t there _last_ time.  I left you… please, _you_ left _ME_ over a year ago when I was in that fucking hospital!” he said flatly.

Brian closed his eyes when he heard the bitterness that coated Justin’s tone.  He’d known that withholding that piece of information from Justin would eventually come back to bite him in the ass, but he never thought it would be as bad as it was.  He opened his eyes when he heard Justin walk across the floor towards the door, and he spoke without thinking.

“I was there.”

Justin glanced back at him with narrowed eyes, and Brian swallowed hard as he watched Justin trying to figure out what he meant.

“When you were in the hospital, Justin… I was there.”

Justin shook his head slightly as his confusion gave way to anger again.

“Yeah, I know.  You sat there for three days to make sure I wasn’t going to die, so that you could alleviate your conscience when you took off.  Business as usual – when your boy toy gets broken, get another toy, right?  Isn’t that what Emmett said?  While I needed you like I will never allow myself to need anyone again, _you_ were out sucking and fucking.”

Brian shook his head as he took a step towards Justin; Chris Hobbs had more than rewired his boy’s brain – he’d fucking scrambled it, if this was how Justin truly thought and felt.

“I was there,” he said hoarsely.  “Every night.”

Brian stepped closer to Justin again as he watched the blood drain out of his face; another step, and then he reached out and lightly traced his fingertips over Justin’s face – over an area that he had avoided like the plague since he had tasted copper and grief on his lips as Justin lay in front of him in an ever-growing pool of his own blood.  Skimming his fingers lightly over Justin’s right temple again, Brian fought to make the right words emerge as those pretty eyes stared up at him.

“I was there,” he repeated in a whisper; the words hurt as they slipped past his lips, but not as much as watching understanding dawn in Justin’s eyes before they blurred over with unshed tears.  “I sat in that fucking corridor, and I watched you through the window.  Every night, until you went home.  I _was_ there, Justin,” he repeated, and when Justin closed his eyes, those tears spilled down over his pale cheeks.

Carding his fingers through the soft hair under his hand, Brian curled his hand around the back of Justin’s neck as he took the final step that separated them. 

“Don’t.”

He could hear the emotion that Justin was fighting in that single word; confusion, anger, despair.  Brian closed his eyes and pulled Justin against him; he could feel the heat of Justin’s breath against his throat, and he exhaled  heavily in frustration when Justin’s hands rose between them and pressed firmly against his chest in an effort to get him to step backward.

“How could you lie to me like that?”

It was muffled against his chest, and Brian sighed as he lowered his head slightly. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s bullshit!”

Brian staggered back a step when Justin wrenched out of his grasp with his hands clenched into fists; panting for breath slightly as he stared at Brian as tears continued to cascade down his face.  His eyes showed the depth of bewilderment he was feeling, and he shook his head frantically as he huffed out a sound of pure disbelief.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” he demanded as Brian peered back at him helplessly.

“I don’t know,” he said when Justin continued to stare at him.  “But I didn’t lie to you, Justin.”

“Yeah, actually, you did!  A lie of omission is _still_ a lie, Brian,” Justin snapped, and Brian narrowed his eyes.

“Like when you lied to me about why you quit dancing at Babylon?” he asked, and Justin swallowed hard as he dragged his sleeve over his damp face.

“What was the point in telling you?” he asked as he took a step away from Brian.  “So you could sit back and say ‘ _I told you so’_?  Any decision I tried to make for myself had to have your stamp of fucking approval all over it, because I couldn’t _possibly_ know my own mind,” Justin spat, and Brian flinched before he could stop himself.   

“Not always,” Brian said quietly.

“No?” Justin asked, and then he chuckled softly.  “How about when you told me to get some friends my own age?”

“That’s not fair, Justin,” Brian said softly, and Justin tilted his head slightly. 

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair, Brian,” Justin said, as his jaw clenched with anger.  “You told me to get some friends.  So, I did.  Fuck the fact that I can’t _stand_ people; I put myself out there, and I gave Ethan and Sam a chance.  That was the best decision I have made since I was seventeen years old.  But by giving them a chance, Michael was able to finally get rid of me.  Before I knew what the fuck was happening, I was tossed out of _your_ life, like you tossed me out of your fucking loft when I made the mistake of forgetting to set the alarm.”

Brian licked his lips slightly as he tried to ignore the flair of pain he felt when he heard that meeting Ethan and Sam had been the best thing to happen to Justin; if they were the best, then Brian and his family were probably the worst.  Shrugging helplessly, he held his hands out to the side.

“He’s my best friend, Justin; he saw Ethan kiss you, and he was trying to protect me.  He made a mistake… _I_ made a mistake.  I knew you were unhappy… I thought that you had decided that Ethan was a better choice for you… that’s why… the night of the Rage launch…”

Brian managed to push the words out of his mouth, but when Justin raised his eyebrows, he swallowed hard.  He knew that look; most people thought that Justin was a beautiful twink who was all sweetness and light – people didn’t realize that Justin could wield words like weapons that could leave wounds that bled you dry.  And from the look on Justin’s face, his boy was about to wield a knife that would sink straight through to the bone.  

“From what _I_ remember of the Rage party, you damn well _meant_ for me to understand what it was you were saying.  You wanted me to understand that you would never want me the way I wanted you.  You would never love me, the way I loved you.  I was just a guy you fucked more than once…  Message sent and received.  YOU made the choice that night, Brian – to give me no choice, no say in the matter - _you_ decided what you thought was best for me, without asking my opinion,” Justin said, as a slightly mocking smile curved his lips again.  “And as I said to Michael – you made the decision to believe _him_ without even asking me what was going on.  You decided that whatever the fuck we were was over; you made that decision, Brian; it was all YOU… now live with it.  We’re done here.”

Brian shook his head as Justin turned away from him, and he huffed out the sound of cynical laughter.

“What happened to the obstinate kid who wouldn’t give up, who wouldn’t take no for an answer?” he asked in desperation as Justin reached out to open the door and Justin shrugged.

“He took a bat to the head, Brian,” he said monotonously, and Brian blanched as Justin turned back to face him with anger showing visibly on his face.

“Justin,” Brian began, but the blond shook his head as he took a few steps away from the door. 

“No.  We aren’t doing this; I don’t know how, but I will get you your money back.  I’m withdrawing from PIFA; I can’t afford to pay, and I won’t accept the money from you.”

“We had an agreement, Justin,” Brian reminded him.  “I would pay for your education, and you would pay me back when you were situated in a career and making a steady income.”

But Justin shook his head again.

“I thought that was the agreement that we made, but what we really had was payment for _services_.  Isn’t that what it really was?  What was it that Michael called me?  Ah…that’s right.  Your live-in _fuck_ boy.  He told me not to delude myself, Brian – so don’t start saying that I meant anything more to you than a convenient piece of ass, when I have lost count how many times I have heard you tell anyone who would fucking listen that I meant nothing to you.”

Brian felt the air in his lungs wheeze out in a painful gush as Justin stared at him steadily.  It had been one thing to hear Alex and Debbie tell him what Justin had thought, but to listen to those words actually spill out of Justin’s mouth hurt him far more than he had thought possible.

“I never called you a whore,” Brian said unsteadily.  “I never thought that, Justin,” and Justin snorted.

“Really?  So paying for my tuition, even though you aren’t fucking me anymore?  What was that if not a financial transaction for services owed?”

“I paid them because you needed my help, Justin,” Brian said, and Justin snorted as he took a step away from him.

“I don’t need your help, Brian.  I don’t need or want _anything_ from you.  Not when it’s all about checks and balances; you can pay for as many terms of schooling as you want, but I won’t get on my knees for you.  Not now.  Not ever again.”

In the silence that followed, Brian could only stare at Justin in disbelief.  But when Justin turned towards the door again, Brian uttered quickly.

“What if I said to keep the money – just go to school.  We can work something out.”

Justin sighed heavily, his head knocking against the door with a muted, thudding sound.

“No, Brian,” he said dully.  “I’m not like you… I can’t go back to feeling like that; like a kept boy,” he said quietly.

“I’m not asking you to, Justin,” Brian said as he took a step towards the boy.  “What if I asked you to return to therapy, to resume your sessions with Alex?  Would you do it?”

“He betrayed my trust when he told you what I said in therapy.”

Taking another step towards Justin, Brian bit his lip when he lifted his hands and saw how badly they were shaking as he reached out and gently curled them around Justin’s hunched shoulders.

“He didn’t betray you, Justin, I promise.  He didn’t tell me anything that you had told him during your sessions; he refused to discuss what was said between you.  You can trust him.”

Brian breathed out slowly as he closed his eyes and lowered his head.  He could feel the warm skin on the back of Justin’s neck under the tip of his nose, and he inhaled deeply.  Justin stiffened under his touch, and Brian sighed as he lifted his head and skimmed his hands down Justin’s arms before reluctantly stepping back and allowing his hands to fall away. 

“Then why are you here, Brian?” Justin asked, and Brian bit his lip before shrugging.

“You aren’t the only one in therapy,” he said finally, and when Justin slowly looked over his shoulder, Brian smiled slightly.

“I didn’t handle finding out about you… being in the hospital very well; I’ve been seeing Alex since I saw you at Boytoy that night.”

“Why?” Justin asked as he turned to face him, and Brian cocked his eyebrow briefly.

“I told you I was sorry,” he said quietly.  “I meant it.  I never meant for things to go so badly that you would… I’ve spent the last few months thinking that you were happy, that you were in a relationship with Ethan.  I didn’t know about Sam… I didn’t know what Michael had said to you… Jesus, Justin, surely you know that I never thought that… please tell me that you aren’t that fucked up, that you think I’d prefer you to be dead.”

Justin shrugged, and Brian’s breath hitched painfully when Justin lowered his eyes.  Ignoring the way Justin tensed, Brain reached out and cupped Justin’s chin in his fingertips; gentle pressure bought Justin’s eyes back to meet his own, and Brian lowered his own chin slightly as he stared into eyes that were shrouded over with misery.

“I didn’t _know_ ,” he reiterated softly.  “I would never wish you… _surely_ you know that.  Just…tell me you know that much, Justin.”

He watched as Justin licked his lips while his eyes flickered away from Brian’s.  But when Brian nudged his chin up again, Justin finally looked up at him and spoke so quietly that Brian had to strain to hear the words.

“I don’t know anything anymore, Brian.  I don’t even know who I am.”

Brian winced and blinked back the burning in his eyes when that whispered confession reached his ears.

“I know you… you’re Justin fucking Taylor,” Brian declared hoarsely after swallowing past the lump in his throat.  “And you’re stronger than this.”

Justin lowered his chin slightly, and Brian was unable to stop himself from reaching out and pulling him into the curve of his body.  It was only when he felt Justin’s head come to rest against his shoulder that Brian let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding as he tightened his hand against the nape of Justin’s neck.

“Come home with me… we can sort this out,” Brian pleaded softly as he turned his head and rested his cheek against soft hair; he tried to ignore the flare of pain in his gut when Justin immediately shook his head.

“You’re asking me to go back to feeling the things that you never wanted with me, Brian… I can’t do that,” Justin whispered.

“We can work things out, Justin,” Brian said again.  “It’ll be different this time…”

“I never wanted you to change, Brian,” Justin said before pulling away from Brian’s embrace.  “But _I_ did.  And I can’t go back… I won’t.”

Staring down into the eyes that showed all emotion for the first time in longer than Brian cared to remember, he reached out and lightly touched Justin’s cheek. 

“I want you in any way that I can have you...” Brian murmured.  “I'll take whatever you _can_ give me, Justin.  Friendship, if you can’t give me anything else; just stop shutting me out.  Let me in… let me help you.”

For the longest time Brian thought that Justin would simply walk away without another word.  But then his shoulders dropped in defeat and he spoke quietly.

“I’ll talk to Alex.”

Brian smiled in relief, and when Justin turned to open the office door, he glanced over his shoulder towards Brian as Daphne’s voice filtered through the door over the thundering of Brian’s heart.

“As for the rest of it… being friends?  We were never friends before, Brian.  I just don’t know…I’ll think about it.”

He was gone before Brian could say another word.  Leaning against the desk, Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.  The kid would no doubt break his heart a hundred times over before this was done, but at least the lines of communication were finally open.  And if Justin was willing to think about being his friend?  Well…it was a start. 


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Brian lay under the blue lights of his bed and slowly rolled the gold ring between his fingers; three a.m. – it had become their time.  The time that Justin always woke from a nightmare; sometimes Brian had been able to soothe him with nothing more than a stroke of his palm along Justin’s flank.  Other times it had taken soft sounds as his boy tried to hide his tears in Brian’s chest.  And then there were the times that only slow, sensual sex had soothed the nightmares away.  But unfailingly, it was always at three a.m.

Brian peered at the small gold ring, twisting it so that it glinted under the blue lights.  He’d taken to carrying it in his pocket; it made him feel like he had handed his masculinity over along with his balls, but at the same time, it made him feel better to have something tangible of Justin’s.  It was proof that his boy had once wanted nothing more than to experience everything that life with Brian had had to offer.

_“I didn’t **want** to fucking die, Brian!  I just wanted to stop **feeling** like I was going too!”_

Brian squeezed his eyes shut when the memory of what Justin had said to him that afternoon flittered through his mind.  When he eventually died, and he stood before whatever it was that guarded the gates, Brian was one hundred percent certain that the being would ask him, how he could have been so oblivious to just how badly Justin had been hurting?  How had he missed it?  How had he fucked up so completely?

Justin was the epitome of life, of joy, and love, with an infectious enthusiasm.  He went through life at a hundred miles per hour; when had that stopped?  When had he wanted to stop feeling, and started to consider death as an option?  Had it been after Chris Hobbs had all but killed him?  After he had come home from the hospital, and was too scared to walk down the street on his own?  Was it finding his lover fucking the zucchini man that had caused it?  Had it happened when he had pissed all over his art, and in turn, all over the pain he had been experiencing?  Or was it when he thought that Brian had abandoned him?

_“You left me long before I walked out of Babylon_ _…  You left me over a year ago…_ _While I needed you like I will never allow myself to need anyone again…”_

Christ.  Brian dragged his hand down over his face.  Life didn’t offer do-overs, but what he wouldn’t give to replay that moment in time.  To replay so many moments of their fucked up little relationship.  To have ignored Jennifer’s anger, and stayed beside the boy.  But he hadn’t; Justin was right.  He’d waited long enough to hear that Justin would live, and then his guilt had driven him out of the hospital and into a marathon session of fucking, drinking and drugs.  He knew that Justin didn’t blame him for what had happened the night of his prom, but for weeks after Justin got out of the hospital, Brian felt that guilt burn every time Justin woke up from a nightmare.    

It had taken a conversation in the dark for Brian to let some of that guilt go; Justin’s voice had been thick with tears that night, as he fought the residual aftershocks of his nightmare.  And under the blue lights, Justin had said that if Brian hadn’t been there, Chris would have probably kept swinging.  Brian had nearly vomited at the thought; but then Justin said that although he didn’t remember the prom, he would forever ignore that in favor of Brian undoubtedly saving his life.

Brian had never thought about it like that; every time he thought about that night, he saw the initial swing of the bat, and shut the memories down before they could play out.  But with Justin’s words echoing in the dark, Brian had thought back for the first time.  He saw the initial swing.  Saw the bat connect with Justin’s head and send him to the ground.  And as he dared to think about it all, he saw Chris Hobbs begin to raise the bat again as Brian screamed out a one-word warning; one that was seconds too late. 

That scream had caused Chris to spin around after he swung the bat so violently, and he had blanched when he saw Brian running towards them.  The coward had turned tail and run, only to have Brian break his knee when he caught up to him.  But in replaying that scene in mind, he was forced to come to the realization that Justin was probably right – Chris would have hit him again if Brian hadn’t been there.  But that was one of the last times Brian had been present when Justin had really needed him.

Oh, Justin had needed his help; help that Brian had offered.  A place to live.  A way to pay his tuition, after his father refused to support a son with an ‘abhorrent, depraved’ lifestyle.  Help learning to be around crowds again and able to walk along the streets of Pittsburgh on his own.  Help to be touched again, without shrinking into himself as his fear skated along his skin.  Those things Brian had known about and supplied.  But when it had truly mattered?  He hadn’t been there.

Not while Justin was in the hospital and suffered through weeks of physical therapy that would result in tears and rage when he was unable to make his hand work the way it once had done.  Not when the Sap had tried to get Justin into that swing, and his boy had almost OD’d as he ran through the streets of Pittsburgh half-naked.  Not when he finally gave up and wanted to stop feeling like he was going to die.  Not when he washed those sleeping pills down with Brian’s drink of choice, and then lay back in the bath and closed his eyes in defeat.

Aside from the three-day bender he had gone on after Daphne had torn his balls off, Brian hadn’t touched a drop of Beam since seeing Justin all those weeks ago in Boytoy; the one time he had, the taste of it on his tongue had caused his stomach to curdle.  Since then, he stuck with beer when he went to Woody’s; he stuck to smoking pot when he wanted to relax.  And in doing so, he had finally found his own footing instead of relying on alcohol and drugs to numb the pain he felt.   

For the first time in his life he was having to face the problems he had, instead of running from them.  He was having to remember the things that he had said and done that had driven Justin out of his life.  Brian had only been partially honest when he had told Alex that Justin had left him because he had told him  he wouldn’t care if he was gone.  No, Brian knew that Justin had also left because he had continually shoved his tricking in the boy’s face.  Because it had amused him to see Justin try to hide how much it had hurt him.

The epiphany that he had had when he’d thought their relationship was over had hit him like a ton of bricks; he’d been trying so hard to avoid turning into his father that he had thought if he denied how he felt, ignored what he wanted, and kept Justin at arm’s length, then he would be safe.  But when his father had died, and he had swung the old man’s bowling ball down that steep incline, instead of feeling liberated – finally – from the asshole’s tight grip, instead he had felt like he was somehow morphing into a replication of him.  Realistic or not, fair or not; that was the way he had imagined himself.  That had been the final swing of the hammer that had been needed to smash the pedestal he had once stood on and had been idolized from into a smoking heap of rubble.

The man who emerged from the smoke had wanted nothing more than to curl up in a fetal position and cry.  Alex was right; he’d had it all in Justin.  A young man who was not only physically beautiful to look at, but who matched him seamlessly.  Maybe that was God’s punishment – ‘here, I made you the perfect man as an apology for the shit childhood you were dealt with.  But guess what?  You’ll only learn that he’s perfect for you _after_ you throw him away.’  Fucker.

And he had been flawless; yes, he was pretty to look at, but it was everything else that made him ideal for Brian.  His sense of humor.  The way his brain worked, as he analyzed all angles of the problem he was working out.  The driving need he had to succeed in life, and with his art.  The way he loved so unashamedly.  Brian had once told him that he wanted to turn him into the very best homosexual he could be – Justin had surpassed that occasion when he was seventeen and had decided to go after what he wanted. 

From the very first night that he had bought Justin home, he had shown very little fear; oh, he’d been scared the first time, as he lay spread out beneath Brian like a buffet.  Fear of the unknown; would it hurt?  Would he like it?  And after that first time, it had been, ‘oh God, more, more, _more_.’  Justin had been insatiable after that; even though the words had been designed to hurt him, Brian had been completely honest when he had told Justin that he loved cock.

_“You love it down your throat.  You love it up your ass.  You love riding it.  And after you cum, you love to fall asleep with it still inside you.”_

It was the absolute truth; Brian had never met anyone with an appetite for sex like Justin’s.  Brian had only had to look at him, and Justin would be grinning as he crossed the loft, leaving a trail of clothes in his wake.  A wiggle of that luscious ass, and he would be climbing into Brian’s lap and damn near blowing the top of his head off by the time Justin finished sucking his cock or riding him for all he was worth.  Whether it was hard and fast, or slow and heated, every time they came together got better than the time before it; _perfection_.

Hindsight – she was an utter fucking bitch.  Brian was so scared that sex with one person would become stale.  Boring.  Predictable.  A fate better left to the hetero-morons of the world.  It was his right as a gay man to sample sex in every form.  Shifting on the bed slightly, Brian licked his lips as his cock twitched in his pants.  He’d fucked hundreds of men over the years; there had been the less than memorable men, and men that had made him consider going back for seconds and thirds. 

But Justin was the best he had ever had; even during those first few months, when Brian had had to guide his hips with a firm hand, Justin’s enthusiasm had more than made up for his lack of experience.  But Brian had kept looking for the ultimate fuck; ignoring the fact that the man who waited for him at home knew every inch of his body.  Knew it well enough that he could cause Brian to near black out with the force of his orgasm, because he had taken the time to learn what really got Brian off.

And while he no longer went to Babylon, he still tricked; he sought out relief at Woody’s or in the Baths on his way home from work.  But it had gotten to the point that even before learning about Justin, he had become bored with the monotony of a less than satisfying blow job or sex.  The asses weren’t tight enough, the skin not soft enough, the sounds all wrong.  Even today, before he’d gone to his standing appointment with Alex, he’d been buried balls deep in a tight ass, and he’d had to picture Justin just to keep his erection.  His orgasm had taken quite some time, because everything about the man he’d been with had been wrong.

Letting his mind drift, Brian thought back over some of their encounters.  The first time Justin had gone down on him, he had asked Brian point blank what got him off, and what he hated.  Brian smiled slightly as he thought back over his answer – “tongue, lips, suck, and don’t use your fucking teeth,” - the horrified look Justin had shot him at the mere thought still bought a smile to his face.  Again, enthusiasm over experience, and he had gamely swallowed what he could with nothing more than a startled “hmm!” when Brian had cum in his mouth.

It had been sloppy and wet, and Justin had gagged more than once.  But he’d gamely gone back to it with nothing more than a sheepish smile.  His boy was a natural born cock sucker – he’d told Brian one night, while he had been lying on his stomach after a marathon fuck session that he loved the weight of a cock in his mouth.  The smell and the taste and the sounds he was able to draw out of Brian with nothing more than a flick of his tongue.  Drowsy, and barely able to move, Justin had all but purred when he felt Brian harden against his thigh. The resulting blowjob that Justin had given him was seared into Brian’s mind.

It had been the first time that Justin had successfully swallowed him down to the root.  He had lain there, with one hand twisted through the soft blond hair on Justin’s head, and the other planted firmly on that heart-shaped ass.  And the entire time Justin has sucked his cock, the boy had been making soft porny sounds that had sounded suspiciously like “num, num, num.”  He had swallowed once, and then swallowed Brian whole, and the purr he had let loose when he hadn’t gagged had Brian coming so hard from the vibration that he had damn near passed out.   

Rolling the thin metal between his fingers again, Brian shifted slightly as he reached down to squeeze his burgeoning erection.  The night Justin had shown off this little gold ring had been first time that Brian had taken him on all fours.  It had glowed against his skin, and Brian had had the first inkling that Justin wasn’t like the other twinks that ran around Liberty Avenue.  He hadn’t been able to get Justin back to the loft fast enough.

The rim job he had given the blond had left Justin a shaken mess, but when Brian had knelt between those splayed legs and grasped his hips, the look Justin had shot him over his shoulder had shown his nerve.  Brian had still drawn his hips up and back so that Justin knelt, but instead of remaining upright himself, he had leaned forward, draping himself over the warm body beneath him.  A firm hand on the curve of Justin’s hip had helped him find the rhythm that Brian had wanted to set, and the harsh moan that had been torn from Justin’s throat when Brian had pushed inside of him had caused goose bumps to break out all over Brian’s body.   

He should have known it then - the signs had all been there.  He’d shown his need to dominate the boy during that fuck, but he had done so by holding Justin down by his biceps rather than the back of his neck like he typically did.  Brian had kept the rhythm easy, while Justin had squirmed beneath him as they rocked together.  Brian had been the one to lace their fingers together as he breathed in the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex that rose from the flexing muscles of Justin’s back – he had never done that before, nor had he left light teeth marks across a man’s skin.

That had been the night that Brian had realized just how much he loved fucking Justin; loved the fact that the boy was so much smaller than he was when they were in bed together.  He often forgot when they were out together, because Justin’s enthusiasm for life made him appear so much bigger than his slim stature really was.  But it was never more evident than when Justin was on his hands and knees; Brian’s body completely surrounded Justin’s.  Brian’s hips had cradled the entire curve of his ass as he bucked almost frantically beneath him as Justin fought back the need to cum. 

But Brian’s experience and knowledge always ensured that was a fight that Justin wouldn’t win; unable to reach for his own cock due to the way Brian had draped his entire weight over his back, Justin would eventually drop his chest to the mattress as his eyes slowly glazed over.  Only Brian’s firm grip on Justin’s hip ensured that the blond would keep rocking back and forth on Brian’s cock, even as he slowly lost his mind under the man fucking him; lost his mind and lost the power of speech, resulting in the throaty sounds that had spilled out of the boy with each slow, heavy thrust. 

He had cried out gutturally when Brian had eventually taken pity on him and reached beneath his straining body to lightly trail his fingertips over the steadily leaking head of Justin’s cock.  That was all it had taken; with another hoarse cry, Justin had erupted all over those teasing fingers.  His internal muscles had clamped down so hard on Brian’s cock that Justin’s orgasm had pulled Brian’s from his own body with no warning, and Brian had collapsed forward on top of Justin with something akin to a roar. 

When Brian had come back to his own mind enough to be aware that he was fully lying on top of a flattened out blond, Justin had been out cold beneath him.  His eyes had been shut, and those gold-tipped lashes had created a fan beneath Justin’s eyes.  His face had still been sex-flushed, and his lips, though slack in sleep, had been blood red from where he had bitten them in reaction to what Brian had been doing to him.  Not even Brian washing the dried cum off his stomach had awakened Justin that night; he had given a tiny kitten purr when Brian had pulled the duvet up over his shoulders that still caused a small smile to tease Brian’s lips whenever he thought about it.  

The need to slip his hand under the elastic of his sweat pants was there; but even as the thought crossed his mind, Brian was pulled away from his memories by the phone.  Brian scowled as his hand drifted over his groin again, and he traced the ridged length of his cock lightly as the machine picked up.  Ignoring the sound of his own voice demanding that the caller leave a message, Brian slowly dragged his hand down over his stomach and under the waistband of his sweats as the machine clicked over:

“ _I want to know why you lied to me.”_

Brian jerked upright as Justin’s voice echoed through the darkness.  For a dozen heartbeats, Brian thought he had imagined the sound of his voice.  But then it came again; lower in tone, and thick with repressed anger.

_“I want to know how you **justified** letting me think that you weren’t there…”_

Clambering up from the bed, Brian tripped over his own feet in his haste and hit the ground painfully on his knees; swearing viciously, he scrambled to his feet and limped across the loft as Justin’s voice came again; lower.  Quieter.  More lost sounding as the hum of traffic echoed through the silence between Justin’s sentences.

_“Was it punishment because I loved you?  Is that what it was?”_

Brian lunged for the phone, as his knees throbbed in time with the pounding of his heart.

“Justin!”

For a moment, the only sounds that came through the phone were of the traffic, and of the half-breaths that Justin was taking that spoke more to Brian than any words Justin could have said.  His boy was more than upset; he was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Where are you?” Brian asked urgently, and Justin hiccupped out a half-laugh, half-moan.

_“Why…so you can ride to the rescue again?  I don’t need fucking **saving** , Brian, I’m fine!”_ he snapped, and Brian closed his eyes briefly.

_“Why did you lie?”_

Sinking down into his desk chair, Brian dragged his hand through his hair before he shook his head.

“I was… I blamed… I don’t know, Justin.  I can’t change it,” Brian said finally.

“ _You told anyone who would fucking listen that I meant **nothing** to you…  I asked you if you’d care if I was gone, and you said no… but you sat in that fucking hospital for weeks on end?  You knew how much I needed to see you, I know you did.  Was it a punishment, Brian?  Because I asked you to Prom?_ ”

“NO!” It exploded out of Brian’s mouth, and his breath hitched painfully in his chest in the silence that followed.  “No,” he said finally.  “It wasn’t punishment, Justin, not in the way you think; not towards you.”

_“Then **why?** ”_

“I was too scared to see you while you were awake,” Brian said finally as he closed his eyes.  “I was too scared that I’d see that you blamed me, too, the way everyone else did.”

_“I told you… I fucking **told** you!”_

“I know,” Brian interrupted.  “But I kept putting it off; I had to get you better.  Get you strong again.”

_“You deliberately kept that from me… and you want us to be friends?  You don’t **treat** your friends like that, Brian!”_

“And you’ve never lied to me, Justin?” Brian asked quietly, and when Justin’s breath wheezed out, Brian bit his lip. 

_“You’re right; I lied to you, too,”_ Justin said.  “ _I lied to you about why I stopped dancing at Babylon.  I lied to you about a lot of things, Brian_.”

“What else did you lie to me about?” Brian asked, and Justin laughed bitterly.

_“About the fact that we could be friends… we were **never** friends, Brian, you told me that yourself…you don’t fuck your friends.”_

“What did you lie to me about, Justin?” Brian asked as calmly as he could; he knew when his boy was deflecting the truth, and Justin was in full defense mode.

For a long moment, only the sound of traffic could be heard; then Justin laughed quietly, but the sound of it held no mirth. 

_“It’s a mystery,”_ he said mockingly, and then hung up the phone.

Brian cursed angrily and clenched his hand around the phone so that he didn’t throw it across the room.  But even as the thought crossed his mind, he forced himself to calm down as he tapped the handset against his lips.  Where had he heard Justin say that before?  It’s a mystery… he knew that he’d heard it come out of Justin’s mouth… when the fuck had he… 

_“You’re losing your shirt.”_

_“You almost lost yours.”_

_“Yeah, I still have no idea why he dropped the suit.”_

_“It's a mystery.”_

Brian blanched as the memory slithered through his mind; dancing with Justin under the flashing lights of Babylon.  Celebrating the fact that Kip had dropped the lawsuit with barely a whimper; Brian had not only kept his job, but had regained his reputation at work after Kip was hustled out of Ryder’s quicker than Brian could blink.  What had Justin done?  There was no doubt in Brian’s mind that Justin had something to do with this.  But what?

_“I guess I'll have to be more careful who I fuck.”_

_“Lucky for you, I turn eighteen **tomorrow**.”_

Brian swallowed the overly sweet taste of his own spit as the answer caused his stomach to lurch; surely Justin wouldn’t have let Kip fuck him…

_“Lucky for you, I turn eighteen **tomorrow**.”_

He dialed the number from memory, only to be told that the cell he had called was no longer in service.  Swearing softly, Brian glared at the offending phone before he bit his lip as hope flared brightly.  Turning the phone over in his hand, Brian thumbed through the phone’s options, and then closed his eyes briefly before he glanced down at the glowing numbers on his call log.  There, shining up at him, was an unknown number - Justin’s new cell number. 

A surge of relief swam through his blood, and Brian carefully wrote the number down before saving it to both his landline and then his cell.  Then he sat back and thought about what he wanted to say; what he wanted Justin to know, more than anything, before he hit redial.  The phone went straight to voicemail, and Justin’s voice echoed in his ear.

_“Leave a message.”_

“You’re right, I don’t fuck my friends.  But if you look up the definition of a friend, Justin, you’ll learn that it means someone who is a buddy.  A pal.  A fucking _companion_.  Try looking this word up instead; venerate.  Let me know when you know what it means.”

Hanging up the phone, Brian smiled slightly, and for the first time in over a month he felt something in his chest relax.  He’d thought that Sam had been setting him up when Lindsay had told him what the other boy had said.  But maybe he hadn’t been; from the message that Cynthia had left on his cell, Justin had come looking for him before they had found each other in Alex’s office.  Justin had then called him at home. 

Was his boy angry?  Fuck, yes.  But anger Brian could work with and fight against.  It was the despair and depression that Brian was ill equipped to deal with.  Alex had told him that he would have to fight to get Justin back.  It was a fight that Brian finally felt like he had a chance to win. 


	15. Chapter 15

15.

“That’s eight fifty, thanks.”

Justin smothered a yawn as he tucked the money into the cash register and handed the customer back his change.  Turning his eyes back down to the textbook in front of him, he resumed reading.  He had just over half an hour to go on his shift, and he could honestly say that he was now counting down the minutes.  He wasn’t sure what he needed more – sleep or food - but the thought of eating something from the Bain-Marie made his stomach clench with nausea.  While hotdogs were quick and tasty, they were also somewhat frightening when you knew they had been sitting there for over six hours already.

He’d fallen into this job by sheer luck; one of his classmates had been talking about the fact that she was resigning due to leaving the state, and Justin had overheard her.  A ten-minute conversation later, and Justin had the phone number for the store manager and an interview later that day.  The work wasn’t hard by any stretch of the imagination; monotony didn’t even come close to explaining how freaking boring it could be.  But the pay was really good, and his boss was easy to get along with – Ingrid didn’t even mind that he studied at the counter between customers.

But the ability to study was beyond him now; he was so tired, that the threat of bursting into what Daphne called cranky tears was a very real possibility.  He hadn’t slept well in a few days; every time he closed his eyes, he saw Brian.  Heard his voice whispering through his mind, telling Justin he had watched over him during the night after the bashing.  Asking for Justin’s friendship, if that’s all he was able to offer.  Justin didn’t know what to think, let alone feel about it.  Then there was the message that Brian had left on his cell phone.

_“You’re right, I don’t fuck my friends.  But if you look up the definition of a friend, Justin, you’ll learn that it means someone who is a buddy.  A pal.  A fucking **companion**.  Try looking this word up instead; venerate.  Let me know when you know what it means.”_

He’d gotten 723 in Verbal/Writing when he had taken his SATs, and Brian damn well knew that – he’d laid Justin out and made him tell him all the different ways you could say fuck, sex, and cock while you had a vibrating plug in your ass and was having your cock sucked.  Venerate – to regard with great respect; revere.  Synonyms included revere, reverence, respect, worship, adulate, hallow, deify, idolize, hold sacred, exalt, honor, esteem, look up to, think highly of, pay homage to, pay tribute to; adore, praise, extol, aggrandize, lionize, hold in awe, stand in awe of, marvel at, value, holy, and sacred.

Justin didn’t know what to think about that, either; so he tried not to.  He tried not to wonder what Brian was up to now; he’d made a mistake calling Brian from his cell phone considering the man now had the means to contact him, but anger had driven him out of his bed and into the cold night.  He’d paced the rooftop of his and Daphne’s apartment, while chain-smoking and glaring at the skyline, and before he quite knew it, he’d dialed the loft and had Brian’s voice echoing in his ear.  Venerate… what the fuck did it mean?  Why had Brian chosen that word?

He didn’t know who to talk to about it, either; Daphne was out.  She was far too angry with Brian to even hear his name, let alone hold a rational conversation.  While he knew he could go to either Ethan or Sam, Justin wasn’t ready to speak about Brian’s revelations.  He knew he could talk to Alex, but Justin hadn’t been able to bring himself to visit the man again just yet.  So, he spent his nights with Brian’s voice whispering through his mind, and Justin was ready to stick his head in a bucket of water in an effort to drown him out.  He didn’t need fucking saving – he was fine just the way he was.  While happiness might be a vague memory, numbness was better than pain as far as Justin was concerned.  Being numb beat out hurt, humiliation, and fear.  He didn’t understand why everyone was acting like he was one sneeze away from shattering; he was _fine_.  Fine with a capital fucking F!      

The sound of the bell over the door had Justin sighing as he closed his textbook; he had already read the same passage seven times.  Before he could look up, however, a container was set down in front of him.  Staring at the familiar red Tuppawear, Justin licked his lips slightly as he looked at the condensation that was clinging to the inside of the clear lid.  It took him a moment to raise his eyes, but when he did, he had to fight to keep his expression calm.

“Hey, kiddo.”

Justin swallowed as he stared at Debbie; her face was pale, highlighting the circles of rouge that were on her cheeks.  And as he stared at her, Debbie reached into her handbag and removed a paper bag.  The familiar scent of lemon fragranced the air, and Justin swallowed again as Debbie set the bag down beside the container.

“Three-cheese lasagna… your favorite,” Debbie said as she tapped a nail against the lid.  “And a lemon bar for dessert.” 

“How’d you find me?” Justin finally asked, and he winced when his voice cracked mid-sentence.

Debbie managed a smile, and they both tried to ignore how fake it was as it stretched across her face like a caricature.

“I couldn’t sleep because I had the sudden urge to make this lasagna,” she said finally.  “You and I are the only ones who appreciate the sheer beauty that is three kinds of cheese melted together, so I used my mom superpowers; I asked _your_ mom if she thought it would be all right if I came to see you.”

When Debbie reached into her bag again, Justin could only stare at her when she withdrew a fork that had a napkin wrapped around it.  But when she held it out, Justin could see how badly her hand was shaking.  It was only when he hesitantly reached for it, that he saw the tears he had heard in her voice begin to slide unheeded down her cheeks.

“I’d better leave you to it,” she choked out, and Justin swallowed hard as she turned away.

“How are you getting home?”

Justin blurted it out without thinking, and Debbie turned back to face him with hope clearly shining on her face.

“I have the car.  How about you?” she asked softly, and Justin blinked before he shrugged.

“Catching the bus.  I finish at two.”

Debbie jerked as if he had slapped her, and before Justin could say another word, she drew herself up to her full height, and pointed at him with a fierce scowl on her face.

“If you think for one second that I am going to let you catch the bus home in this weather, at this time of night, then you have another thing coming!  Catching the bus, my ass!”

For a moment, it was like the last four months hadn’t happened; Justin ducked his head as color warmed his cheeks, and he found himself agreeing before he could think better of it.  Debbie huffed out an impatient breath, and then reached out to tap the lid of the container with a scarlet red nail again.

“Now eat your fucking lasagna before it goes cold – I didn’t spend three hours making it so that it could go to waste.”

It was only when Debbie set her bag down that her face cleared, and she looked towards Justin swiftly as color burned high on her cheeks.  But the smile that split her face was as bright as Justin had ever offered in the past, when he hesitantly reached out and pulled the container towards himself.  The scent of cheese and the rich tomato sauce filled the air, and Debbie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow when Justin hesitated.

“Eat… I don’t cook for fools, Justin.”

It was only when he had forked a bite into his mouth that Debbie leaned closer and spoke quietly with conviction firm in her voice.

“I cook for the people that I love best.  For my family.”

Justin ducked his head, but dutifully ate another mouthful.  Nodding her head, Debbie settled her hip against the counter, and under her watchful eye, Justin slowly made a dent in the food she had so carefully prepared.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Debbie turned the heater in her car up a notch as she waited for Justin to finish cashing out his register before the next employee arrived to relieve him.  Absently rubbing her chest, Debbie sighed; for a kid who had once sat at her table and had eaten nearly a full pan of three-cheese lasagna on his own, Justin was a shadow of his former self.  The container she had handed him earlier had held a single serving, and he had had to force himself to eat half of it before he had said that he was too full to eat another bite.

Her kid had always been a beauty, but that beauty had become so delicate that it had hurt to look at him.  He was so thin, he almost looked sick; his blue eyes looked so much larger than she had ever seen them due to how dominant his hollowed cheekbones were now.  Debbie pushed her troubling thoughts away when Justin stepped out of the BP and hesitated; Debbie took a deep breath when he took a step towards the bus stop before his shoulders slumped and he turned to trudge towards her car where she sat waiting.          

When he settled into the seat beside her, Debbie glanced at Justin for a minute before she pulled out of the BP and headed downtown; she had seen condemned men walk toward death row with a better spring in their step.  Justin didn’t say anything – he merely leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes.  Perhaps Fate smiled down at Debbie that day – perhaps it decided to give the kid a break.  But within minutes, Justin was snoring quietly and leaving Debbie alone with her thoughts as she drove to where he was living.

She knew from personal experience that when Justin slept like this, he slept deeper than anyone she knew.  He was also the only man she knew who snored like a kitten with a belly full of milk – soft, snuffly sounds that were occasionally broken up by a grunt when he shifted.  Glancing over at him, Debbie smiled despite herself – nearly twenty years old, and the kid still looked young enough to be tucked in with a teddy bear and a bedtime story.

Parking at the front of the building that Justin lived in, Debbie reached out and brushed the hair away from his face.  She regretted that move, however, when Justin was startled out of sleep in such a fashion that he was catching her wrist in a bruising grip before his eyes had even opened.  He let go of her quickly enough, and although he didn’t voice the apology, she could clearly see it in his gaze as he stared at her.

“Thanks for the lift.”

Justin was out of the car and heading for the doors of the apartment building before Debbie could even speak.  It was only as he disappeared through them that she saw that he had left behind the book he had been reading when she walked into the BP.  Staring at the thick textbook, Debbie chewed her lip for a long minute before she turned the car off.  Picking the book up, she sighed when she saw that he had left the food behind, too; decision made, she tucked everything into her overly large bag, and climbed out into the iciness of the night.           

She knew which apartment Justin shared with Daphne – she’d always known.  But fear of Justin’s reaction and respect for Jennifer had meant that Debbie had stayed away – it had been the hardest thing she had ever done.  Locking the car behind her, Debbie walked into the dimly lit building and headed for the elevator she could see tucked into the back corner.  While she didn’t hesitate to be on her feet all day while working, there was no way in hell she was climbing four flights of stairs.      

Debbie sighed when the elevator eventually groaned its way up four floors, and when the doors slid open, she sighed again.  The corridor was as dimly lit as the entrance way, and smelled faintly of mildew.  Walking down the corridor, Deb bit her lip again as she stared at the door in front of her; Apartment 4B.  This was where Justin had hidden himself away – his safe place.  It took her several minutes to lift her hand and knock lightly on the door, and when she heard footsteps echoing towards the door, Debbie sent up a quick prayer that she wasn’t about to set Justin back again.

It wasn’t Justin who opened the door, however; Daphne’s face was sleep-creased, and her hair was fluffed up on one side.  She squinted at Debbie for a minute, before she rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes like a cranky toddler who needed a nap. 

“What are you doing here?” Daphne asked.  “Justin said you’d dropped him off; he never said anything about you coming up.”

Debbie managed to smile as Daphne continued to guard the doorway; she knew that the next sentence out of her mouth would determine whether the girl would let her into the apartment or not.

“Justin left his book in my car,” she said, and Daphne sighed when Debbie managed to smile.

Shaking her head, Daphne stepped back and waved her hand in irritated invitation.

“Come in, then,” she muttered, and Debbie nodded as she stepped inside.

“He’s getting changed; I’ll let him know you’re here.  You can wait in the living room.” 

Debbie followed Daphne through the apartment; her eyes darted around the area as she walked, and she didn’t know whether to smile or cry when she recognized Justin’s touch mingling with Daphne’s in every room.  For the first time, she realized that Justin had obviously never felt at home in the loft or when he had lived with her and Vic.  He had never left an impression on either place the way he had here.

His art covered the walls; drawings that were bright bursts of colored pencil, and the more muted shades of grey in others.  Two large paintings, that were clear representations of Justin’s talent.  One was a spectacular landscape of Pittsburgh’s skyline at dawn, while the other was a portrait of Daphne herself; one half of her body was dressed in doctor’s whites, while the other was resplendent in her high school graduation robes.  Colorful knickknacks were scattered here and there, as were colored cushions.  

Debbie had just set her bag down on the coffee table that was cluttered with textbooks when Justin wandered into the living room.  He stopped short when he saw Debbie, who had to bite her tongue hard when she caught sight of him.  Clad only in thin grey sweatpants, Justin’s body was on full display; Debbie inhaled sharply when she saw the clear outline of his ribs, before Justin crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes.

“You left your book in the car,” she said quietly as she watched the metaphorical storm clouds gather over his blond head, and then exhaled softly when Justin seemed to relax into himself before he nodded as she retrieved the book from her bag and held it out to him. 

“Thanks… I’ll need this for a class in a day or two,” he admitted as Debbie watched him cross the room to the coffee table and set it down on top of another thick art book.

It was only when Justin sank down onto the couch that Debbie set her bag down and hesitantly joined him as he lit a cigarette and leaned back against the arm of the couch.  Justin seemed content to let the silence linger between them, while Debbie wondered what she could possibly say to the young man who watched her with guarded eyes.  Daphne shuffled back into the living room, and Debbie finally broke the silence as Daphne silently handed her a steaming mug of tea.

“Thank you, Daphne,” she said quietly, and Daphne shrugged as she handed the other mug to Justin.

“I’m heading to bed, Justin.  What time is your class tomorrow?” she asked, and Justin took a sip of his drink before answering.

“It was supposed to be at eleven, but the class was canceled.  I might head in anyway and see if I can’t get some studio time in before my late class.  I’ll be home around six.”

Daphne nodded and bent her head to brush her lips lightly over Justin’s; she glanced at Debbie with a warning shining clearly in her eyes before she left the room.

“How’s school?” Debbie finally asked, and Justin shrugged as a door was shut quietly down the corridor.

“It’s okay.”

Debbie bit her lip again as Justin silently watched her over the rim of his mug; swallowing hard, Debbie leaned forward to set her mug on the coffee table.

“I know you don’t want me here, Justin,” she said quietly, only to have Justin groan under his breath before he lowered his eyes.

“It’s not that, Debbie,” he said finally.  “I just don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything,” Debbie said gently.  “Say anything you want, Justin.  Tell me about school.  Or your job.  Or tell me about whatever cute guy you fucked recently.  You can tell me whatever you want, even if that means that you tell me to fuck off.”

Justin nodded as he sipped his drink; Debbie settled more fully onto the couch as Justin stared down into his mug.  But when he finally looked back up at her, there was something in his steady gaze that told her to tread very carefully.

“Did you invite me to live with you because Brian had kicked me out and I had nowhere else to go?  Was it because my mom was paying you?  Or did you actually want me there?”

Debbie smiled slightly; the guarded look in his eyes was there, but the roundness of his shoulders told her far more than anything else.

“Are you kidding me?” she said with a smile.  “I was thrilled to have this gorgeous twink running up and down my stairs and eating me out of house and home.  Always nudging me out the way, so that he could do the dishes because I’d worked all day.  Eating my three-cheese lasagna at half past two in the morning, because we both had the munchies… it was a dream come fucking true, Justin.  To have that youthful vibrancy in the house again after so long?  It made it feel like an actual _home_. 

“Having you there helped Vic feel like he was still a man, rather than a disease when you would practice your flirting on him.  It made me feel like I had gained another son; one who was happy to dance with me around the kitchen, rather than act like I was an embarrassment to him.  Did the money your mom give me help?  Of course, it did.  But I would have taken you in whether there was money offered or not, Justin.  It wasn’t because Brian asked me to, or because your mom was paying me, kiddo; I took you in because I love you.”

“Then why…”

Justin broke off and shook his head, leaving Debbie to try and fill in the gaps.

“Why what, Justin?” she said gently.  “Why did I get so angry over Ethan?  Why did I step away from you?  Why have I stayed away?” she asked.  “I’ll answer all those questions; I stayed away, because I was told to by your mom.  I stepped away, because I didn’t want to take sides.  I know that you thought I had, but I didn’t want to interfere in your relationship with Brian – you have enough of that from the others, without me adding my two cents’ worth.

“As for why I got so angry with you, it’s because I thought that you were hurting Brian.  He had never opened up before, Justin; had never let someone in behind the walls the way he did with you, and I didn’t know that Ethan had a boyfriend.  None of us did.  That’s on me, and that’s on Michael, and all I can do now is apologize for what happened, and ask you to let us back in.”

Justin snickered softly as his face twisted.

“You know what always pissed me off the most, Deb?” he asked.  “You all expected me to put up with what Brian dished out.  But the mere thought of _me_ cheating on _him_?  And I got kicked to the curb… how the fuck does that work, when according to Brian and Michael and Lindsay, we weren’t even in a relationship?  You can’t cheat on someone that you are merely fucking; Michael told me that.  But the minute it was me?  Oh, he’s cheating on Brian!  That ungrateful shit!”

“Justin…” Debbie said quietly, but Justin ignored her as he took a sip of his tea and then continued to speak.

“You said that I understood him; I didn’t.  Not really.  By the time I worked out that I wasn’t willing to settle for being his backup fuck anymore, I had twisted myself into the person that I thought he wanted, the person you all told me I had to become in order to be with him.  I looked in the mirror the night before the Rage party, Deb, and I didn’t even recognize myself; the person looking back at me was a person that I couldn’t stand,” Justin said flatly.

“I had become so dependent on him that I settled for public fucking.  Threesomes and taking drugs, when I knew that the cocktail might kill me if it had Tylenol in it.  I got used to walking into the place I thought was my home, and finding him fucking other guys, and having to hide how much it hurt me.  But that was just Brian, right?  Monogamy has no place in a gay relationship, yet Michael demands it from Ben.  Lindsay demands it from Mel.  Yet I wasn’t allowed to even _think_ the word, let alone ask for it, not that I would, because I enjoyed fucking ‘cute guys’ too much.”

Debbie swallowed hard as Justin paused to gather his thoughts. To hear it from Justin’s point of view made her squirm uncomfortably.  If a man had treated Michael like this, Debbie knew that she would be baying for his blood; the guilt left a sour taste in her mouth, and an active wish for a joint or a glass of something really strong to wash it away.  But then Justin looked back up at her, and Debbie mentally braced herself.

“Brian told me that _I_ had wanted romance and flowers and monogamy – for maybe five minutes when I was seventeen?  Sure.  But it wasn’t me who wanted it, Deb; who put the ideas in his head.  Those ideas came from you, and Lindsay, and Michael.  I wasn’t in a relationship with Brian; I was in a fuck fest with the rest of YOU; I had no say in what went on in that cluster fuck, but the rest of you _did_.  I couldn’t even complain about the things that Michael said to me without you or Brian jumping all over me in his defense.  Why the fuck would I want to come back to that?”    

Debbie shook her head helplessly as Justin sipped his drink.  What could she really say in the face of his argument, when everything he said was true?  She settled for reaching into her bag and withdrawing the lemon bar, which she broke in half and offered to Justin.  When he finally took the offered treat, she tilted her head as he nibbled on it, while she gathered her thoughts.

“I can only say how sorry I am,” she said finally, and Justin smirked as he mouthed ‘Sorry’s bullshit’.  “It’s not bullshit, Justin.  Not when you truly mean it and feel it; I had no idea that we as a family made you feel like that.  I knew that everyone, including me, had interfered in your relationship with Brian in the past.  But things would be different this time.”

“Yeah, see Brian said that, too,” Justin interrupted.  “And I’m sure that for a few weeks it would be.  Can’t upset Boy Wonder; he might feel neglected and try to kill himself again to get some attention,” Justin said bitterly. 

Debbie inhaled sharply; she couldn’t help it.  It wasn’t Justin’s voice she heard in that statement – it was Michael’s.  And when Justin’s face twisted briefly in pain, she was left wondering what else Michael had said to Justin in the past that no one else knew about.

“But then things would return to the way they were – Brian would shove his tricking in my face when something set him off; whether it was a bad day at work or one of you guys giving him shit about me, it wasn’t you who copped it, Debbie.  It was me who bore the brunt of Brian self-destructing; me, who he deliberately tried to hurt.  Michael and Lindsay would tell me that I was stupid for expecting him to respect my feelings.  And I would be left feeling like I was less than a fuck to him.  It’s not worth it.  I deserve better than that; I won’t accept anything less than a full partnership from any man I meet in the future.”

In the silence that followed Justin’s quietly spoken vow, Debbie scrambled to gather her thoughts into coherent order.

“What if we started small, Justin?” she finally asked.  “You could come to dinner; just you, me, and Vic.  It doesn’t have to have anything to do with Michael or Lindsay or Brian.  If you don’t want to see them, then they would be told to stay away.”

“Why?” Justin asked as he set his mug down. 

“Why?” Debbie echoed, and Justin shrugged.

“Why should they stay away, Debbie?  They’re your family.”

Staring at him in the silence that followed, Debbie finally set her own mug down and leaned forward to speak firmly.

“ _You_ are my family, too, Justin.  And I am so fucking sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t.  I love you, kiddo; I love everything about you, from the top of your blond head, to the tips of your ticklish fucking toes.  I know that you are sick right now; I’ve read up a lot on depression since you were in the hospital, and I understand that your viewpoint can be twisted – that you begin to doubt everything you think and know.  _Never_ doubt how much Vic and I love you, Justin.  You were a gift to us, a gift that kept giving.  Let Vic and I give back to you now.  Please… come to dinner and let us prove to you how much we have missed you and how much we love you.  Bring Daphne if you want, or Ethan and Sam.  But please, give us that chance; I swear, I’ll never give you a reason to doubt me again.”

Justin lowered his eyes as Debbie stared at him, before he finally gave a tiny nod of his head.  And as they sat there in silence, Debbie settled her hand against the couch; when she felt the barely-there touch of Justin’s toes against the side of her hand, she simply smiled as Justin pulled his foot away seconds later.  But it was a start, and that was all she could ask for.


	16. Chapter 16

16.

Tommy all but bounced in his seat as he watched the clock slowly tick towards three p.m. on Thursday; he couldn’t wait to finish school – he couldn’t wait for this class to finish, so he could hug his news to his chest and wiggle a little.  He had been invited by both Tisch and Juilliard to tour their schools and to participate in their summer programs for rising dancers.  Even as a junior, this was a significant step in the right direction for him; he wanted nothing more than to finish high school and begin the rest of his life in New York.  But first, he had to get through a double session of AP English.

His teacher was out with the flu, and as the substitute continued to drone on, his fellow students were all doing one of three things:  fighting to stay awake in the overly warm classroom, passing notes that contained current gossip, or daydreaming.  The class held a mix of juniors and seniors and was one of the better courses that Tommy took.  Shifting in his seat, Tommy glanced to his left when a folded piece of paper landed in front of him.  Looking swiftly towards the front to check on his teacher, Tommy unfolded the paper in his lap and then grinned when he saw what was written.

Glancing to his left again, Tommy met Lily’s raised eyebrows with a smirk and a slight shake of his head as he quickly wrote out his reply and flicked the note back towards her.  The resulting smile she shot him in return after reading what he had written was almost blinding, and Tommy ducked his head as a blush stained his cheeks.  He had met Lily in kindergarten, and they had been best friends ever since.  She had been the first person he had ever told that he was gay, and even now the memory of her dryly saying that she had figured it out when they were ten and fighting over Barbie dolls made him smile.   

Glancing up at the clock again, Tommy stretched the cramped length of his legs out from under the table; he had always known he was gay.  He loved girls; loved the way they smelled and looked, and he loved nothing more than watching Lily dance.  But he was in no way interested in having sex with any of them.  Guys, on the other hand?  Tommy hid a wry grin.  He was definitely interested in having sex with guys.

He’d never been able to hide the fact that he was gay; he had heard the term effeminate before and knew that it mostly applied to him.  He couldn’t help the fact that he was only five feet, six inches; he had always been leanly muscled from the amount of contemporary dancing he did.  A hulking football or hockey player he was not.  He had his dad’s dark hair, but his pale skin and darkly lashed grey eyes had been a gift from his mama.

High cheekbones, what could only be called a button nose, and full lips had forever ruined any chance he had of being called handsome or rugged.  Instead, he had heard his mama call him pretty.  Lily always called him beautiful.  Other girls called him gorgeous, and stunning, and every other word that took his masculinity away and made him feel like a fucking girl.  He was pretty sure that the last time he had checked, however, that he had a seven-inch cock in his pants. 

Another note landed in front of him, and Tommy hid a yawn as he picked it up and unfolded it while the teacher continued to drone on.  He read over the note, and then picked his pen up to scrawl an answer to Lily’s latest question.  Re-folding the paper, he glanced towards the front of the class, before he tossed the square of paper towards Lily.  A  football player he was not – he winced when it fell onto the desk of one of the senior hockey players, who jerked when it hit his hand.

Tommy groaned under his breath as Roman picked the paper up.  Six foot tall and built like a brick wall, Roman was all dark blonde hair, dark brown eyes, and apparently, a hell raiser on skates; not that Tommy knew anything about hockey.  He ducked his head when those piercing eyes shot up and zoomed in on him.  Fear skittered up his spine, and Tommy tensed all over as Roman slowly glanced at Tommy and Lily.  But when all he did was slowly reach over and place it in front of Lily, Tommy relaxed slightly; Roman looked back down at the open books in front of him, and Tommy relaxed as he thought back over the note he and Lily had been exchanging for the last hour; 

_Are you going to Boytoy tonight?_

**_No, I can only get in on a Monday night.  That’s when they have underage night._ **

**_Once a month Ari does a Saturday opening during the day from twelve until seven._ **

_Justin always meets you there, right?_

**_Yep. When I first met him, Justin said he’d look out for me while I was at Boytoy._ **

_Do you think he’ll kiss you again?_

**_God, I hope so!_ **

_Good kiss?_

**_ Best kiss. _ ** **_He made me feel so good about it; he said that the first kiss you ever give is a gift and should be treated as such._ **

**_I asked him about my first time, and he said that it was something that should be treasured, and not thrown away because I was horny._ **

**_That was what my hand was for._ **

_LOL!!  God, he sounds really nice, Tommy.  You are so lucky.  Do you think he’ll be your boyfriend?_

**_No.  I asked Justin about being boyfriends a while ago, and he said that he doesn’t want one; that he has had enough of boyfriends to last him a lifetime._ **

**_He said that the best thing he can offer me is his friendship, and you know what?  He’s right.  I’m happy with that._ **

_That still sucks._

_**No, it doesn’t.  Being his friend means that he’ll always be there – I can’t argue with that, Lil.**_

_Can I come this time?_

**_To Boytoy?_ **

_Yeah **.**_

**_I don’t see why not; you do know that there are no guys there that are going to hit on you, right?_ **

_That’s what makes it so appealing!_

**_Ha! You’re funny._ **

_Have you told him your news yet?_

**_About Tisch and Juilliard? No; he knows that I want to go to Tisch, though. He was the one who told me to concentrate on school so that I could graduate early._ **

**_I feel like I’m stuck in perpetual slow motion here, Lily.  I just want to finish up and start my life, you know?_ **

_I know.  If you keep going the way you are, you’ll be able to graduate six months early.  Justin goes to PIFA, right?_

**_Yeah.  He’s an artist; I saw his work one afternoon while I was taking a tour of the school grounds with Dad – they called him artistically gifted._ **

**_I call him brilliant.  His work will hang in MoMA one day – just you wait._ **

_And we’ll dance on world stages, Tommy – just YOU wait._

**_Damn straight we will – there is no way I could dance with anyone other than my BFF!_ **

_I love you.  Like, seriously love you.  You are so good for my ego!!  Is Justin meeting you after school?_

**_Yep.  I called him over lunch, and he said he’d meet up with me so I could share my news with him._ **

**_We’ll get a coffee or something.  I want to check out Liberty Avenue during the day; Justin didn’t seem to want to go, but I think I talked him into it._ **

The ringing of the bell halted any further conversation, and Tommy stood up and arched his back to get it to pop.  As he straightened up, he glanced towards Lily; he was startled to see Roman looking at him, however, and quickly averted his eyes as he gathered up his belongings.  Making his way over to Lily’s side, he watched as she folded the note they had been exchanging and tucked it into her blazer pocket.

The corridor was thick with students moving between classes, and Tommy snickered when Lily grumbled behind him as they got caught up in the crush.  Glancing over his shoulder at her, he grinned when he saw that she was sandwiched between him and another student.  Looking up, Tommy blushed and quickly looked away; it was Roman who was standing behind Lily, and as Tommy looked at him, he saw Roman shove his hand into his pocket as he glanced across Lily’s small height and towards where Tommy was standing. 

Swiftly turning his head away, Tommy concentrated on getting through the crush of students.  He felt Lily stumble into his back, and grasping her hand, tugged her in front of him.  Shuffling forward with one arm wrapped around her waist, Tommy sighed heavily as he was forced to stop again.  Before he could step forward again, however, there came the unmistakable feeling of a hand brushing across his ass.  Although the touch was light, it was definitely a hand.

But when he turned around, the crush of students behind him had thinned out, and there were only a few senior boys, all of who were involved in talking and not paying any attention to him.  Shaking his head, Tommy finally pushed Lily through, and they made their way down the corridor towards their lockers.  It only took them a few minutes to put their books away and retrieve their bags; Lily linked her arm through his, and they set off towards the front of the school.

Tommy scanned the parking lot, and eventually spotted Justin leaning against what he could only describe as a muscle car; he had no idea about makes and models, but he knew that it stood out in the sea of BMW’s and Mercedes that filled the parking lot of his school.  He knew the exact moment that Lily spotted Justin, because she dug her nails into his arm and squeaked as she stared over at him.

“Oh my God, Tommy; you never said he was _that_ gorgeous!”   

Tommy grinned, and after promising to call her later, he walked towards Justin, who smiled at him in greeting.  Justin kept some distance between them, but he did reach out to lightly touch Tommy’s arm when he stopped in front of the older boy.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Tommy said, and Justin shrugged.

“No worries.  You ready?”

Tommy nodded, and when Justin opened the passenger side door, Tommy saw another guy sitting in the driver’s seat.  His dark hair brushed against his jaw, and he smiled up at Tommy as Justin tilted the front seat forward so that Tommy could crawl into the backseat.  

“This is Sam,” Justin said, and Tommy nodded as Justin set the seat back and then slid into the front seat.

He knew who Sam was; most people who went to Boytoy did.  Sam DJ’d there some Monday nights, and was often seen with his boyfriend.  Sam started the car, which rumbled loudly as Sam checked his mirrors.  Looking out of his own window, Sam saw Lily getting into her mom’s car; the student parking lot was filled with students, and as Sam slowly pulled out, Tommy spotted Roman with some of his friends looking towards the sound that Sam’s car made.  Justin glanced at him over his shoulder; Tommy grinned, and Justin returned his smile with one of his own.

“So… you wanted to see Liberty Avenue,” Justin said, and when Tommy nodded, he seemed to sigh before he nodded.

“Okay; Liberty Avenue it is.”

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Tommy knew his jaw had dropped; he knew it and could do nothing about it as he stared down the sidewalk.  Everywhere he looked, there were couples walking together.  Holding hands and kissing, touching each other, and laughing as they moved freely through the waning afternoon sunshine.  But there was only one hetro couple that Tommy could see.  No, everywhere he looked, men were with men.  Women were with women.  And when he glanced at Justin, Justin grinned at him as Tommy blushed.

“I had the same reaction the first time I came down here, too,” Justin said quietly, and Tommy nodded.

Sam had dropped them off with the promise to return in an hour or so with Ethan and Tommy’s bag, which would be safe in Sam’s car.  Tommy followed Justin as the older boy made his way up the sidewalk.  Justin pointed out various shops and told Tommy some of the local gossip that he knew about the businesses.  But even as Tommy soaked it all up, he was watching the other people; people who stopped when they caught sight of Justin and stared, before they started whispering as they walked past.

Tommy began to get the feeling that Justin was more well-known on Liberty Avenue than he had let on.  He knew the blond was popular at Boytoy; guys were practically lining up to dance with him when Justin was in the club.  But this was different.  He knew that he was right when people started greeting Justin as they walked past.  Calling him Justin, and Cutie and in some cases, His Majesty.  And when one guy reached out and touched Justin’s arm, Justin gave him an easy smile.

“Justin, I haven’t seen you in ages!  How have you been?”

Justin stepped out of the man’s reach, and then smiled.

“Fine, Todd, how about you?”

Todd lifted his shoulders slightly before he grinned.

“Not too bad, honey; I’ve been going to Pistol a lot lately.  Where are you shaking that fine ass now-a-days?”

Justin snickered, before he shook his head.  “Boytoy.  Why are you at Pistol?  I thought you lived in Babylon’s backroom.”

Todd laughed and then sobered slightly.

“That’s right, you wouldn’t have heard; Brian found out about what Saperstein was doing to his dancers; he punched Gary out at Babylon and was overheard shouting that he was a rapist.  The boys deserted Babylon like rats on a sinking ship.  No one goes there now; Gary’s losing money hand over fist.  Serves the cunt right; no one touches our King and gets away with it.”

Justin’s eyebrow’s flew up and his lips parted as he stared at Todd silently.  Todd smiled, a gentle look in his eyes, as the two men looked at each other until Todd shifted his gaze towards Tommy.

“And who is _this_ baby boy?” he asked, and Justin shook his head slightly before glancing at Tommy with a small smile.

“Todd, this is Tommy.”

Todd grinned at him, and Tommy blushed when the man stepped into his personal space and brushed a welcoming kiss over his cheek.

“He’s _darling_ , Justin,” Todd said as he lightly trailed his hand down Tommy’s arm, and Justin snorted.

“He also only just turned sixteen, Todd,” Justin said dryly, and Todd snatched his hand back as if it had been burned.

“Damn!  Baby, _baby_ gay!  This one isn’t chicken, Justin, he’s still in the egg!” he said, and even Tommy had to laugh when Todd theatrically fanned his face.

Glancing at his watch, Todd smiled at Tommy and then looked towards Justin.

“I’ve got to go, honey; it’s so good to see you, though, Justin; you’ve been missed.  Maybe I’ll come across and check out Boytoy; what nights do you go there?”

“Mondays, because I meet up with… Egg-bert here,” Justin said dryly as he jerked his thumb towards Tommy, causing another round of laughter as Tommy blushed, “and Saturdays.  Sometimes on a Thursday.”

“Not one for the club scene anymore?” Todd asked, and Justin shook his head.

“Nah, I work nights now; those are my only free evenings.”

“Where are you working?” Todd asked, and Justin shrugged.

“BP downtown.  I’ve been there for a while now.”

Todd nodded, and then leaned over to brush his lips lightly over Justin’s.

“I’ll be seeing you, honey.  You stay beautiful.”

With a wave of his hand, Todd melted into the crowd; Justin turned to face Tommy, who grinned at him.

“This _egg_ is hungry,” he said with a straight face, and Justin laughed before tossing his arm around Tommy’s shoulders and turning him slightly.

“Well, let’s go and find you some food, because the proper care of twinkie eggs includes keeping them warm and feeding them,” he said seriously as Tommy slipped his arm around Justin’s waist, and Tommy laughed as Justin continued to steer him up the street. 

The further up Liberty Avenue they got, the more people greeted Justin, and the more confused Tommy became.  Justin kept his arm draped around Tommy’s neck, but he could feel the tension in the blond from the way the muscle in Justin’s arm kept twitching.  Tightening his hold around Justin’s waist, Tommy looked up at the blond whose jaw was clenched as he stared across the street at an eating establishment.

“Justin?”

Justin flinched slightly before he looked down at Tommy.  Something must have shown on his face, because Justin blew out an unsteady breath and shook his head.

“I’m fine, Tommy; come on, let’s get something to eat.”

They crossed the street together when there was a break in the traffic, and Tommy hid his wince when Justin’s arm tightened around him to almost painful intensity.  Justin opened the door and ushered Tommy inside ahead of him, and when Tommy felt Justin step in behind him, he was startled when all noise inside the diner abruptly halted.  You could have heard a pin drop in the silence that was left behind, and Tommy balked.  But Justin was urging him forward with a hand against his lower back, and as they stepped further into the room, a woman’s voice rose in greeting.

“Sunshine!”

The tone of her voice was reverent, and Tommy watched as a lady with red hair bustled out from behind the counter and approached them with a wide smile.   Justin stepped up to Tommy’s side and bent his head to receive the kiss she offered on his cheek; he winced when she left behind a bright red lipstick print on his cheek, and he lifted his hand to try and wipe it off as the lady smoothed her hand across Justin’s chest.

“Hey, Deb,” he said, and when she gestured towards an empty booth set at the back of the diner, Justin shook his head.

“No, thanks.  We’ll sit over here,” he said firmly, and pressing his hand to Tommy’s back again, he steered Tommy towards a table that was tucked behind the curve of the front door.

Muted conversation picked up slowly as Justin slid into the opposite side of the booth from Tommy, and Deb hovered by the table as the younger boy sat down.  Tommy peeked over his shoulder, and saw that the men in the diner were all staring at Justin with open curiosity; he heard the name Brian mentioned several times, before his attention was drawn back to Debbie.  Glancing up at her, Tommy took in her appearance slowly; from the badges that adorned her vest, to the piece of gum that she was chewing as she returned his open look.

“So… who’s your friend, Sunshine?” she asked, and Justin slowly lifted his eyes from the menu he was looking at when he heard the accusatory tone in her voice.

They locked eyes, and Deb seemed to shrink into herself slightly as the muscle in Justin’s jaw jumped several times before he spoke.

“This is Tommy; he’s new to Liberty Avenue.  Tommy, this is Debbie Novotny.  She runs the diner and tends to mother the lost boys of Liberty Avenue.”

Tommy drew on his manners and smiled up at her; Debbie returned his smile weakly before she glanced at Justin.

“He’s a beauty, Justin; little young, though, isn’t he?”

Justin slapped the menu down onto the table, and Tommy winced when he saw how glacial Justin’s eyes had turned.

“Not that it’s _any_ of your business, Debbie, but Tommy and I are just friends; not friends who fuck, not friends who destroy each other’s relationships, and not friends who need mothering, no matter how well intended it is.  History isn’t repeating itself here; he’s sixteen years old, and unlike another young twink we both know, he isn’t going to get his heart fucking annihilated – not by me, not by _anyone_.”

Debbie flinched as the muted conversation stopped again, and she blew out an unsteady breath.

“Justin…” she began, and then faltered when Justin narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll have a coffee,” Justin said firmly.  “What do you feel like, Tommy?”

Tommy licked his lips nervously before he gestured to the menu.

“Umm… just some fries, please.  And a chocolate milkshake,” he mumbled, and Debbie nodded silently before she moved away as Justin closed his eyes and blew out an unsteady breath.   

“Tell me your news,” Justin said finally, and Tommy hesitantly relayed the news he had received that day.

Debbie bought their drinks over as Tommy told his tale, and when Justin grinned, Tommy relaxed slightly.

“That is _amazing_ , Tommy, congratulations!” Justin said with a smile, and Tommy grinned in return.

“I wouldn’t have auditioned if you hadn’t pushed me, Justin,” Tommy said softly, and Justin waved his hand as Debbie continued to hover just behind Justin.

“Dance to you is like art is to me or music is to Ethan; we need it to breathe properly.  Without it, life has no meaning.  No color or sound or movement.  You could no more not dance than I could put down my pencils and not draw again.”

Tommy nodded as he chewed on the side of his thumb before he spoke again.

“I can graduate six months early if I continue to push with my AP classes; it means almost double the workload, but I don’t care, Justin; the only thing that keeps me going some days is the ability to lose myself in the music as I dance.  I want this more than I’ve ever wanted _anything_ in my life.”

Justin looked startled for a moment, but then he smiled and knocked his fist lightly against the table.

“I know what you mean.  No matter how shitty things get, I’ll always have my art.  It's the one place I can go where I’ll always be safe.”  Justin smiled again and shook his head.  “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Justin jumped slightly when Debbie set an enormous plate of fries down, and then a second plate which held two lemon scented bars; when Justin looked up at Debbie, she shrugged.

“You’re too fucking thin, Justin; I’ve given you boys a double order of fries, and you’ll damn well eat them.”

Justin sighed, but ate some fries dutifully.  Debbie nodded, and then glanced at Tommy who was looking up at her with wide eyes.

“I heard what you said about school; congratulations, Tommy.”

“I wouldn’t have done it without Justin’s encouragement,” Tommy said softly, and Debbie finally smiled.

“You couldn’t do better than having Sunshine as a friend,” she said, stealing a look at Justin.  “He’ll do anything for his friends… or his family.  You’re a lucky boy.”

“Debbie…”

Justin’s voice took on a note of warning, and she huffed slightly before ruffling the hair on Justin’s head and walking away as he made a sound of annoyance and shoved his hand through the tousled strands.

“If it’s not her lipstick, it’s my fucking hair,” he mumbled, and when Tommy grinned, Justin scrunched up his nose at him and pulled a face.

They talked quietly about Tommy’s hopes for the future while they ate; that conversation was disturbed when a man walked over to the table and set a piece of paper down beside Justin’s coffee cup.  Justin and Tommy both looked up at him, and the man raked his gaze over Justin’s face slowly.  Justin scowled, and jerked his thumb towards the door.

“Fuck off, I’m not interested.”

“Back in Kinney’s bed, are you?” the man asked snidely, and Justin flinched before he sneered up at him.

“No, I’m not.  And I’m not interested in fucking a guy who interrupts what is clearly a private conversation.”

Justin shook his head and dismissed the man when he looked back towards Tommy; he waited until the other man shuffled away before Tommy licked his lips and spoke quietly.

“Who is… Kinney?” he asked, and Justin sighed.

“ _Brian_ Kinney is the Stud of Liberty Avenue, Tommy; he only fucks guys once; no repeats.”

Tommy gestured towards the man who had tried giving Justin his phone number, as he recalled hearing the name Brian whispered when they had first walked into the diner.

“But he said…”

Justin shook his head and squinted as he looked across the room.

“I was the anomaly to his rules,” Justin said finally.  “We were… fucking, for nearly two years, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyes widened, and Justin nodded slowly.

“I was seventeen when he fucked me the first time; it ended a couple of months ago.”

“Is that why you don’t want a boyfriend, Justin?” Tommy asked, and Justin scraped his nail across the table before he finally looked back up at Tommy.

“Tommy… look, you’re a really lovely guy.  But I am far too fucked up to be your first in any way.”

“You gave me my first kiss,” Tommy ventured, and Justin smiled.

“And it was really sweet, and as I said to you that night, thank you for giving me that gift, because that’s what it was.  But sex and love and a proper relationship?  I can’t give you those things, Tommy.  I can’t give them to anyone.”

Tommy bit his lip thoughtfully as he leaned over the table, and when he spoke, it was as quietly as he could.

“Do you still love this guy, Justin?  Is that why?”

Justin sighed heavily and tapped his fingers lightly on the table as he stared out across the diner.

“I don’t know, Tommy; the mere thought of dating someone?  Of opening myself up to the possibility?  It does nothing for me,” he said finally.

“Why did you break up?” Tommy asked, and Justin smiled wryly.

“We didn’t break up, Tommy; you can’t break up with someone you aren’t in a relationship with.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I lived with Brian after I got kicked out of my home.  He fucked me.  But he wasn’t my boyfriend, Tommy.  We weren’t in a relationship.  It ended when I stopped letting him fuck me, and I moved out.”

Tommy looked down at the table, and chewed on the inside of his lip; he could feel Justin’s steady gaze on him, and he screwed up his courage to look up at Justin.

“Is it because I’m only sixteen?”

Justin blew out a steady breath and closed his eyes briefly before he spoke.

“The age of consent is seventeen, Tommy; but even if you were seventeen, I still wouldn’t… Tommy, I’m damaged goods, okay?  You deserve to be with a guy who is going to love you completely; who will treat you like gold.  Not someone who…”

Justin broke off and shook his head as Tommy reached out and touched Justin’s hand lightly with his fingers.

“You aren’t damaged goods, Justin,” Tommy said firmly, and Justin swallowed hard.

“You don’t know me, Tommy.  Not really.”  Looking down at the table for a minute, Justin finally spoke again.  “You’re pure, in a way that I can barely remember being.  I spent the first two years here being fucked in public, and fucking guys that I didn’t know.  Do I love sex?  Sure.  But I have had more than my fair share of fucking; because that’s all it was, Tommy.  It wasn’t making love.  And that’s what you deserve – your first time should be special and given to someone who loves you; not just because he thinks you’re hot.”

“How many…” Tommy broke off and blushed, but Justin simply shrugged.

“I don’t know the exact number, but well over a hundred guys.”

Tommy nodded as he watched Justin sink in on himself; for the first time since he had met Justin, Tommy looked beneath the pretty boy façade, and saw the man behind the blond hair and beautiful face.  He was startled to realize that Justin looked tired.  Tired, and slightly ill. 

“Justin?”

Justin looked up, and Tommy only just managed not to flinch when he saw the self-loathing expression on his friend’s face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Justin’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“I’m _fine_ – why?”

Tommy drew in a deep breath before blowing it out.  “You look sick.”

Justin recoiled, and Tommy leaned closer as he spoke quickly.

“I mean, you look like you are _going_ to be sick…”

Tommy was cut off from further conversation when a warm body dropped down beside him, and he looked up into Sam’s friendly eyes.  Looking back towards Justin, Tommy relaxed as Ethan slid in beside Justin, who automatically leaned into his friend when Ethan wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders.  At Ethan’s touch, Justin relaxed; the haunted look slowly left his eyes as Sam snagged some fries, and Ethan engaged Tommy in conversation about his hopes for the dance program.

By the time they left the diner ten minutes later, Tommy had almost convinced himself that what he had seen in Justin’s face had been a mistake.  But the memory of Justin calling himself damaged goods continued to echo in his mind, as did the way Ethan’s fingers had continued to press and release against Justin’s shoulder.  Justin was right – he really didn’t know the other boy at all.  Mind made up, Tommy decided that the best way to be a good friend was to do what Ethan had done – give Justin the love he so obviously needed.   


	17. Chapter 17

Alex sat at his kitchen bench and tried not to look at the clock.  Other than the night that Justin had discovered Alex with Brian, and the afternoon that he had passed out in his office, Alex hadn’t seen his young patient for over five weeks.  That didn’t mean he hadn’t tried reaching out to the boy; his calls had been ignored, his voicemails not returned.  But when Daphne had found Alex with Brian at the diner, she had given his balls such a roasting that even now Alex winced at the memory.

It wasn’t like he could blame the poor girl; when he had tried visiting Justin at home the day after the Boytoy debacle, her anger had been more than apparent when she had dragged Alex down the short hallway to Justin’s room and flung the door open.  Justin had been curled up on his side; his eyes had been vacant, and the boy had withdrawn into himself in such a way that for a moment Alex had seriously considered calling an ambulance and admitting Justin to the hospital.

Daphne had shot that idea full of holes; she would continue looking after Justin with Ethan and Sam’s help.  They were the ones, after all, who had all but bodily dragged Justin into the car so that he wouldn’t go into Meathook looking for a leather Daddy who could and would make Justin feel anything other than numb.  Alex had been horrified; it had been one thing when Justin tricked – it was another thing entirely to go looking for pain.

Since then, he had reached out to Justin several times a week; those calls had gone unanswered for so long, that when Justin actually answered his phone on Thursday night, Alex had nearly fallen out of his chair in shock.  Justin hadn’t said anything for the longest time; he had let Alex ramble on, filling the silence between sentences with the sound of his steady breathing.  When he did eventually talk, it had been a single statement; one that had told Alex all he needed to know.

_“Did you go to him, or did he come to you?”_

This was his test – if he failed this, he would never get Justin into therapy again.  Alex had been brutally honest and had told Justin nearly everything; from Brian showing up on his doorstep, to the panicked phone call after Michael had approached Justin at PIFA.  The way Brian had all but stumbled on his way out of Boytoy, his legs threatening to give out from under him as the shock of seeing Justin kept reverberating through his system.  None of what they spoke about in therapy, other than Brian’s continual opening statement wondering if Alex had seen Justin yet?

In the end, when Alex finally ran out of words to say, Justin had merely hung up on him.  Alex had promptly rung him back, but Justin’s phone had been switched off and had gone straight to voicemail.  Alex had left him a message, telling the young man that he was genuinely sorry if Justin felt like he had betrayed him, but that he hoped Justin knew that he would never do that.  It was all he could do; so now he sat here, waiting.  Waiting to see if the knock on the door would come or not.

He took to pacing the living room when one o’clock came and went with no sign of Justin.  If Alex was completely honest with himself, he knew why it was so vital to him that Justin continued therapy.  Justin’s own mental health and wellbeing were his top priority, there was no doubt; but it was also a shot at redemption for him.  To make things right, from when he had gone so wrong in his personal life with Ari.  The parallels between Alex’s own life and Brian’s were enough to send shivers down Alex’s spine.

A relationship that contained two lovers, and the influence of a supposed best friend.  Brian’s inability to put Justin before Michael was a mirror image of what had happened when Ricky had returned to Alex’s life.  And like Alex, Brian had paid the ultimate price when he had listened to his best friend, instead of putting his partner first.  But unlike Alex, maybe Brian could set things right.    

_“Do you know how hard it is to love someone, Alex, and know that you aren’t enough for them?  You can be fucked upwards of a half a dozen times a day, you can drop to your knees whenever they want their cock sucked without a single word of complaint, and they **still** feel the need to stick their dick in someone else.  If that doesn’t tell you that you aren’t enough for them, then I don’t know what does.”_

Alex winced when he thought back to the therapy session when Justin had made that statement.  He had been staring at a slim blond with hurt blue eyes, but in his mind, all he could see was Ari.  Sitting in the exact room that Alex paced now, as Alex told him that he was going to start tricking again.  Alex still had nightmares about that day – Ari had stared at him with tears streaming down his face before he finally managed to ask, why wasn’t he enough?

To hear those words spilling out of Justin’s mouth had been difficult for Alex to listen to; hell, to listen to anything to do with Brian and Justin’s relationship was difficult.  It was history repeating itself, and Alex was reminded time and time again of just how badly he had fucked up with Ari.  Oh, his relationship with Ari was cordial now; polite, and gracious to a fault, and it made Alex want to scream every time that Ari looked at him – scream and rant and remind the man that Alex had had his tongue in Ari’s ass more times than he could remember.

But Ari wasn’t his anymore; it wasn’t his tongue or cock that Ari enjoyed now.  It was another man’s.  Another man who got to hear every sigh and soft moan.  That got to taste the sweetness of Ari’s lips and taste the saltiness of his cock.  It was another man who got to hold him every night and listen to his hopes and dreams.  There were times during Brian’s therapy sessions with him that Alex wanted to tell him all of his own regrets.  But there was no point; Brian had plenty of his own regrets without him adding his own to the mess that Brian now found himself in.

Moving to stand in front of the wide windows that opened the room to so much light, Alex looked out towards the park.  And in doing so, he found his heart in his throat when he saw a lone figure that was huddled deep inside his jacket, sitting on the picnic table across from his home.  Backing away from the window quickly, Alex grabbed a coat and hurried towards the front door.  Making sure it remained unlocked behind him, Alex took a deep breath of the cold air and slowly made his way across the street.

Justin remained silent when Alex eased himself up onto the tabletop that he was sitting on; his features were frighteningly pale beneath the dark beanie that covered his head, and his hand was shaking when he raised it to his mouth and took a deep drag of his cigarette.  Alex’s palms literally itched with the need to reach out and smooth his hand down the dejected curve of Justin’s spine, but he knew that if he did so, it would send Justin fleeing in the opposite direction.  

So, they sat in silence; it was only when Justin flicked his finished cigarette away that he finally looked at Alex, who had to fight to maintain eye contact with the young man.  For the first time since Justin had become his patient, Alex could finally see the emotions that was so familiar to him, peering out at him from behind those remarkable blue eyes.  Fear.  Confusion.  And deep-seated sadness.  But there, amidst all the pain, was something that Alex had never seen before:  a tiny, tiny glow.  It was dull; barely shining up from the depths.  But it was there; that small ray of hope that was reflected back at him. 

Alex took a deep breath, and held it in for a count of one, two, three, before he slid from the tabletop; he lifted his hand as he steadily exhaled and held it out to Justin, who stared at him in silence.  It was only when Justin finally reached out that Alex felt his eyes flutter momentarily as Justin’s icy fingers touched his own.  Gently curling his hand around Justin’s, Alex waited until the boy stood up, and then he turned towards his home and led Justin inside and out of the cold.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Huddled deep in the corner of Alex’s plush couch, Justin stared blindly across the room as he listened to the sounds Alex was making in the kitchen.  The clink of porcelain on marble.  The soft gurgle of a coffee maker as it heated milk.  The opening and closing of a refrigerator door.  The soft whoosh of a warm, woolen blanket being settled around his cold body.  And then he was blinking as Alex crouched between his feet and pressed a warm mug into his hands.

“Drink this for me, Justin,” Alex urged quietly, and Justin obediently raised the mug and sipped.

The sweet warmth of hot chocolate burst over his tongue, and Justin closed his eyes as he took another sip.  With his eyes shut, he was able to ignore Alex adjusting the blanket around him; ignore the fact that the man was fussing over him, as unease skittered across his skin like ants.  The touch of Alex’s hand across the crown of his head as Alex removed his beanie; the gentle touch of his fingertips as he smoothed the tousled strands of blond hair.

Justin steadied his breathing as he continued to sip the heated milk that Alex had pressed into his hands.  He concentrated on the taste of the chocolate as it slid like silk across his tongue; in doing so, he was able to ignore the fact that Alex continued to kneel at his feet.  The silence was a comfort that Justin allowed himself until the last sip of milk was gone.  And as he swallowed, he finally opened his eyes and looked down at the man at his feet.  Alex knelt there in a supplicant’s pose; compassion showed in every nuance of the man, and Justin swallowed hard.

“I’m _fine_ , Alex!  God!  I wish everyone would stop treating me like I’m going to break!”

Neither man was able to ignore the desperation that coated every word that came out of Justin’s mouth; Alex continued to watch him steadily, and Justin shook his head slightly as he tried anxiously to bite back the words that wanted to spill out.

“I’m fine…” Justin insisted weakly when Alex remained silent, and Justin’s eyebrows knitted together briefly before he swallowed hard. 

He had tried ignoring the whispers in his head for the last few days; the whispers that insisted that he wasn’t fine.  He wasn’t weak; he wasn’t some sissy little faggot who needed his mommy.  He was stronger than that… He had tried ignoring them until those whispers were all he could hear; those deafening murmurs that kept him awake, or disturbed what little sleep he had been able to get.  And when he opened his mouth to refute those whispers once more, something else rose up from deep within him; it stole the words he had meant to say, and replaced them with something else.  A deep-seated fear that finally found its voice.   

“Debbie and Tommy both said… am I… am I _sick_ , Alex?”

Justin forced the words out of his mouth; when Alex’s eyes closed briefly, Justin bit his lip and looked away.  The warmth of Alex’s palms covered Justin’s knees seconds later, and he squeezed gently until Justin looked back towards him.

“Yeah, baby; you’re sick.  You’ve been sick for quite some time now.”

Justin felt his face twist at the softly made statement, and he shook his head slightly as he stared down at Alex.

“I’ve been taking my pills…” he managed, and Alex smiled faintly as he gently squeezed Justin’s knees again.

“I know you have, Justin; you think that your Mom would micromanage your life?” Alex asked as he leaned closer to the blond with a small smile.  “I knew down to the _hour_ when you needed a new script.  I know how much you hate taking them, but tell me – do you think they are working now?”

Justin licked his lips and then shrugged.

“I don’t know.  I don’t feel… I’m fi… I don’t _want_ to be sick, Alex.  I don’t _want_ to feel like this, but I don’t…”

Justin pressed his lips together firmly to keep the words inside; he knew that his eyes were wide, that his breathing was strangled in his throat.  He knew that his heart wasn’t trying to punch its way out of his chest, but Jesus, it felt like it would.

“Justin?”

Justin looked down at Alex, who took a deep breath and reached for Justin’s hands before he spoke quietly as he held them firmly within his own.

“I’ve asked you this before; to be honest with yourself, and to be honest with me.  I swear, I’ll believe you, because you wouldn’t lie to me, would you?  The same as I would never lie to you.”

Justin shook his head almost frantically as he continued to bite his bottom lip while staring into the kind brown eyes looking up at him from the floor.  And when Alex licked his lips, Justin knew that things would never be the same again.

“The day that Ethan found you in the bathtub… did you just want to sleep?”

The silence between them grew so thick that Justin could all but taste it as Alex looked at him steadily, while squeezing his hands in unwavering support as the blood slowly drained out of Justin’s face.  And from somewhere deep inside, Justin finally found the courage to face his demons, and he slowly shook his head as he fought back the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes.

“Did you try to take your own life, Justin?”

The silence pressed in on them, cocooning them within the moment.  But then Justin shattered the moment when he nodded; a sharp jerk of his head that sent tears spilling down over his colorless cheeks.  But his tears didn’t matter; Alex was already climbing to his feet and pulling Justin towards him as he sat down on the couch beside the blond, with relief clearly shining on his face. 

Pulled into Alex’s arms, Justin’s whole body sagged when Alex wrapped his arms around him tightly; he felt Alex thread his fingers through his hair, and the rapid pounding of Alex’s heartbeat against his chest as he closed his eyes and rested his head against Alex’s shoulder.  Alex rocked him slightly, and Justin finally gave up the fight and let go as Alex continued to hold him while he cried.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Rock bottom.  Once you hit it, the only way you could go was up.  But fuck, did it leave behind a mess.  Alex sat on the couch silently as he continued to gently comb his fingers through Justin’s hair.  The kid was stretched out on the couch with his head in Alex’s lap; his face was flushed, but he was finally breathing steadily as he huddled under the blanket.  Justin had nearly cried himself sick in the aftermath; this was what Alex had been waiting for.  For Justin to face his illness head-on and admit to himself what he had done.

Watching Justin fight his demons and finally overcome them had been one of the hardest things Alex had ever had to witness.  But it had been time; Alex had known something was different about the boy when Justin had taken his hand in the park.  In all the months since Justin’s attempt, never had he willingly reached for help before.  In Justin’s mind, in his own words, he was _fine_.  It had been heartbreaking to watch him struggle, but just like the tiny ray of light he had seen in Justin’s eyes earlier, Alex had finally found hope.

Looking down at the young man, Alex smiled slightly.  Shudders continued to occasionally wrack his slim frame, followed by the appearance of singular tears that would slowly slide down over his cheeks.  But for the first time in a long time, Justin’s eyes were clear as he met Alex’s steady gaze.  Oh, there was still pain; but it was a smear across those blue eyes now – not a heavy shroud that had blinded the boy to just how fragile and precarious his mind had become.

“I’m sorry.”

It was a hoarsely whispered sound, accompanied by another lone tear, and Alex shook his head slightly.

“There is absolutely _nothing_ to apologize for, Justin,” he murmured.  “I told you a long time ago that I was willing to listen.  That I was here if you needed me.  _You_ had to be the one who was willing to open up; to admit to _yourself_ what you had done.  All the therapy and antidepressants in the world weren’t going to help you, until you faced this head on; do you understand?”

Justin nodded, and rolled onto his side so that he was facing Alex’s knees.  Alex continued to stroke his head, offering what little comfort he could as Justin’s entire body trembled from what Alex could only call touch deprivation.

“I told Brian that I didn’t want to die, that I just wanted to stop feeling like I was going to.  I felt like that _all_ the time, Alex; it was constantly there.  I just wanted it to _stop_ ,” Justin mumbled.

“What happened that day, Justin?”        

“I didn’t mean to… honestly,” Justin said quietly.  “I was so used to hurting, that when…  It was just too much, you know?”

“What was too much, Justin?” Alex asked gently, and Justin shuddered before his whole body seemed to collapse in on itself.

“Leaving Babylon and Brian that night with Ethan was the hardest thing I had ever done; God, Alex, I loved him so much,” Justin said finally.  “I just couldn’t do it anymore.  I couldn’t stand back and watch him fuck other guys; not when it was a message.  Not when it was because he was self-destructing.  I just couldn’t take the humiliation anymore; waiting for the crumbs of affection that he would throw my way when he thought no one was watching.

“I knew that leaving him would be hard, you know?  But I never thought that I would be punished by his family for finally growing some balls and deciding that I didn’t want to be treated that way anymore.  They wouldn’t talk to me; they looked at me like I was nothing more than a piece of shit on the sidewalk.  These were the people who had told me that I was their friend, a part of their fucked up little family.  I figured that was all right; they were Brian’s family first, and I had Ethan, Sam and Daph.”

Justin fell silent, and Alex bit his lip in an effort to stay quiet as he continued to card his fingers gently through Justin’s hair.  This was the first time Justin had ever volunteered information, and when Justin’s shoulders continued to give intermittent little jerks, Alex knew that the boy was fighting back his tears again as he relived whatever had sent him on his downward spiral.

“I was taking the trash out when Michael came up to me.  He told me that taking out the trash was all I was good for, because I was an expert at using things and throwing them away.  I knew he meant Brian, and what had happened at Babylon; I said that I would have told Brian to go fuck himself, but he was already doing that with Rage.

“He called me a shit, and asked me how I could do it after all he'd done for me?  Like he expected me to just sit there and continue to take it, you know?  He told me that I knew who Brian was, right from the beginning, and he asked me if I thought that I could change him, that I thought he would change for me?  I said I didn’t want to talk about it; he’d finally got what he’d wanted, and Brian and I were done.  I told him that there was nothing standing in his way anymore, that Brian was all his.”

Justin took several steadying breaths, as Alex fought the need to go and hunt Michael down and tear him a whole new asshole for being such a bastard.

“Michael said that since I was no longer with Brian, there was really no reason for me to be around anymore.  So, why don't I just do them all a favor, and disappear?  I wasn’t wanted anymore, to get the fuck out of their lives – to stop freeloading off of the family.  He said that none of them cared about me, that they only put up with me because I was Brian’s live in fuck boy.  He said he had never met anyone as selfish as I was, that he was glad Brian had finally wised up and kicked me out of his life.  That this was the thanks that Brian got for saving my life.”

Justin’s voice dropped to a mere whisper, and his breath hitched several times before he finally managed to push the words out.

“He said, ‘If you ask me, it wasn't worth it.  Brian should have done himself and the family a favor and just left you lying there.’”

Justin shook his head slightly when Alex’s hand stilled against his skull, before he finally heaved a heavy sigh.

“I felt like he had wrenched my chest open and pulled my heart out.  I couldn’t speak; I could barely fucking breathe.  I couldn’t stay there for another moment; I walked out on Debbie, and I went to Ethan’s.  He had given me a key after I had left Babylon, and he and Sam had been kind enough to let me stay with them.  I just felt… so fucking dirty.  So… I ran the bath.”

Justin slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and turned to face Alex.  His face was open and honest, and his voice took on a pleading tone as he reached out hesitantly and touched Alex’s hand.

“I didn’t plan on it, Alex, I swear to God, I didn’t.  I didn’t plan it out or leave a note; I just wanted to stop feeling like I was dying on the inside.  It felt like no one could see how badly this was hurting me; no one cared that I hadn’t meant to hurt Brian.  I fucking loved him… I just didn’t like him or myself any longer.  I really did just want to go to sleep.”

Turning his hand over, Alex gently grasped Justin’s hand within his own and squeezed gently as Justin’s breathing started to turn into little gasps.

“Be honest, Justin,” he said gently.

Justin managed to nod, and when he finally spoke, his face flushed bright red before the color drained out of his face completely.

“I had sleeping pills in my bag from when I had trouble sleeping after the… after.  So, I took the bottle and the Beam into the bathroom.  I could still hear Michael in my head; telling me that he wished that Brian had let me die, that the family would have all been better off.  I’d lost everything, Alex; my family, my friends, my fucking _job_.  I had nowhere to live again, and I was having to depend on friends for a place to stay.”

Justin shook his head and dropped his eyes momentarily before he seemed to gather himself.  When he finally looked up, Alex could see the resolve in Justin’s steady gaze and he squeezed Justin’s hand in support. 

“I opened the bottle, but when I shook it, more than one pill came out.  I looked at them for the longest time, Alex; they helped me to sleep, you know?  They turned my mind off… my nightmares… they gave me peace.  I didn’t think after that.  I didn’t think about what it would do to Ethan or Sam if they came home.  I didn’t think about what it would do to my Mom or to Molly or to Daph.  I looked at them, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to stop hurting.  Just for a minute. 

“I wanted to stop hearing Michael telling me that he wished I had died… I wanted to stop feeling like I was going to, with every breath I took.  I just wanted to stop… being.  Existing.  When you want to turn a light off, you cut off the power that feeds it…  I wanted to turn off my pain… so, I stopped thinking, and I took them.  And then I got into the bathtub and I tried to drown out Michael’s voice with the Beam.

 “The last thing I remember thinking as I closed my eyes was that Michael was right – Brian should have left me there.  At least now Brian could be happy again.  He could go back to being what he wanted to be; he could fuck whom he wanted, without me annoying him.  He could be without responsibility; he could be… Brian Kinney.  And then I stopped thinking.  And the next thing I knew, Daph was in my face, telling me that if I thought that I was checking out on her, I had another thing coming.”  

Justin managed to smile even as his eyes filled with tears.  And when they finally spilled over, he took the final step in his journey towards his recovery.

“I didn’t mean it, Alex; I don’t want to feel like that anymore – like I’m dying inside.  I promise.”

Leaning closer to the blond, Alex managed to smile himself as he reached out and cupped Justin’s jaw briefly in his hand.

“Do you want to stop feeling like this, Justin?  Do you want me to help you?”

And when Justin finally nodded, Alex closed his arms around the boy as his tears continued to fall.           


	18. Chapter 18

Normally, when a family meeting was called, it was Debbie doing the calling. Usually, those family meetings took place in Debbie’s home.  But this wasn’t normal; Alex had called this meeting.  He had called Brian and asked him to come to his house; Alex sat in a leather armchair with one leg crossed over the other.  The strain on his face was apparent, as was the fatigue in every inch of his body; Brian couldn’t remember a time that he had ever seen Alex look so utterly exhausted. 

Brian sat beside Emmett, whose long fingers were tucked around his own hand; Emmett had reached for Brian’s hand the moment the nelly queen had sat down, and he squeezed Brian’s fingers steadfastly.  Ted’s hand had been surprising firm when he had grasped Brian’s shoulder upon his own arrival, and he sat in the chair next to Alex’s with worry showing on his face as he alternated between looking at his hands and looking at Brian.

In the weeks since first learning about Justin, Brian had been surprised by the friendship that had been solidified between himself and the other two men.  Their support had been silent but unwavering.  Not a day went by that didn’t include a text message or a phone call from one of them; unable to reach out to Justin, they had reached out to Brian instead.  It was something he hasn’t expected but appreciated nonetheless. 

Debbie and Vic sat at the other end of the couch.  Debbie had appeared nervous when she had first arrived, but a quiet conversation with Alex had settled her.  She had kissed Brian’s cheek in greeting before she sat beside Emmett; with Vic by her side, the two of them looked at Alex hopefully, only to be told that not everyone was there and to please be patient.  Neither of the girls was present; Alex said that the weather had kept them home with Gus, but they would be filled in on what the meeting was about via phone. 

The knock that sounded on the front door had the others looking up expectantly; Brian steeled himself as Alex rose to answer the door.  He hadn’t seen Michael in a long time and wasn’t looking forward to their first meeting being in this room.  But when Alex returned to the lounge room, it wasn’t Michael and Ben that followed him into the room; Brian flinched when he saw Ethan walk in hand-in-hand with Sam.

The tension in the room increased tenfold when Ethan caught sight of the family, and a scowl broke out over his face.  He bit his lip, however, when Sam clamped his hand around the back of Ethan’s neck in silent warning.  The two lovers locked eyes when Ethan looked up at Sam.  Brian could almost see the flow of conversation between them; an argument that Sam apparently won when Ethan huffed and turned to face the gathered group.

“Well, this is fucking awkward, isn’t it?” he said dryly, and Sam snickered as he guided Ethan over to the love seat.

Debbie laughed nervously as the two boys sat down.  Brian couldn’t help but stare at them; Sam straddled the love seat and tugged Ethan down between his spread thighs.  Ethan shifted closer to his boyfriend and leaned back into Sam’s chest.  His head rested against the curve of Sam’s neck, and he seemed to settle as Sam tucked his hand under Ethan’s arm and rested his hand on Ethan’s upper thigh.

Separately, they were both good-looking men.  Ethan’s dark curls and serious eyes beautifully framed the paleness of his skin, whereas Sam’s skin held a warm glow that was in direct contrast to the grey tattoos that Brian could see peeking out of the collar of his shirt, and across the backs of his hands.  Yet together, it wasn’t their looks that drew your attention – it was the unconscious stroking of Sam’s thumb across Ethan’s thigh and the way the tension in Ethan just melted away as Sam continued to caress his leg.

Brian felt a sharp stab of what could only be called jealousy.  These two boys had fucked Justin.  They knew the taste of his skin and the sounds that poured out of the blond when his prostate was nailed just right.  But simmering under the jealousy was anger.  Brian knew he had no right to be angry with them, but he couldn’t help it.  Ethan, in particular, had been the catalyst in the downfall of his relationship with Justin.  And to see him so comfortable with Sam had Brian’s blood on a slow burn that he was helpless to contain.

It was the sound of Alex clearing his throat that drew Brian’s attention away from the two lovers; he could hear Lindsay and Mel in the background and knew that Alex had put them on speaker phone, so that they could listen to why Alex had called them all together.  Looking over at Alex, Brian watched as he shifted in his seat; he took a steadying breath before he spoke plainly.

“Now that everyone’s here…”

“Michael and Ben aren’t here,” Debbie said quietly, but she fell silent when Alex narrowed his eyes.

“No, Debbie, they aren’t.  While Michael is your son, he is unwelcome when it comes to this; Justin currently wants nothing to do with him, and quite frankly, what he wants right now is my first and _only_ priority; am I making myself clear?”

Debbie’s face flushed bright red.  She nodded stiffly when she peered at Brian; finding no support, when the man blinked slowly before turning his attention back to Alex, Debbie lowered her eyes.  Brian blinked again, this time in surprise, when he saw that Alex had directed his gaze towards him; there was an apology in Alex’s steady gaze that made him uncomfortable, and Brian abruptly looked away as Alex cleared his throat. 

“Justin came to see me today.”

He held his hand up when everyone started to speak at once; everyone, that is, except Brian and Sam.  The two men locked eyes, and as Alex called for quiet, Brian watched as Sam seemed to steel himself as he slipped both arms around Ethan’s waist and buried his nose in his boyfriend’s hair.  Emmett squeezed Brian’s hand in steadfast support as everyone fell silent.

“Please,” Alex said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “let me finish.  As you all know, I hadn’t seen Justin in over five weeks.  Ethan, Sam… I know that you both helped Daphne look after Justin during that time.  Between the three of you, Justin followed the rules that we set out while he was still in the hospital, and I thank you not only for that but for what you stopped him from doing the night that he saw Brian and me together at Boytoy.”

“But?” Ethan asked quietly, and Alex swallowed before he spoke gently.

“Ethan… you never believed that Justin had attempted suicide.  You and Daphne followed the rules that were set out for him, and you agreed that he had depression, but you always maintained that Justin had OD’d.”

Ethan’s lips thinned, and he shook his head slightly as Sam tightened his arms around his waist.

“He’s my friend, Alex,” Ethan said firmly.  “I know he’s been hurting; I’ve _seen_ it.  I’ve listened to him bleed it out when he tricks; I’ve watched him _punish_ himself because of what he believes he did wrong.  I’ve held him while he cried – no one knows just how far Justin has slipped into his depression better than me… than us.  Do not thank us, for being there for Justin; I’ve told you that before.  We’re the lucky ones.  He let us into his life; it could have gone the other way, and he could have shut us out the way he has with them.” 

Ethan gestured towards the couch as he tilted his head to peer up at Sam, who smiled down at him and brushed a kiss over the tip of his nose.

“No one doubts just how good a friend you have been to Justin, babe; you saved his life.”

It was murmured, but in the silence of the room, Sam’s statement was deafeningly loud.  And when Ethan looked back over at Alex with wide eyes, Alex smiled wryly.

“Sam’s right, Ethan – you did save Justin’s life, and every single person in this room knows it.  Justin himself knows it; he and I have spoken about it during his sessions, and he is the first one to say that you saved him.”

Alex licked his lips before he sighed heavily.

“The hardest part of helping Justin has been convincing him that he _needs_ help.  You know this yourself, Ethan.  It’s been a hell of a fight to get him to come to therapy, and an even bigger struggle to get him to talk about what has been hurting him.  Because Justin knew that if he did open up and talk, then he would be made to _feel_ the pain that he was still holding inside himself.  Pain that he was still ignoring.  In Justin’s own words, he was fine.

“He was able to dance around what he had done; he never really admitted to a suicide attempt.  He was brutally honest about the fact that he had taken the pills.  Honest in saying that he was tired, that he wanted to sleep.  But he _never_ admitted to anything else.  He denied it, not only to those of us in this room but to himself as well; in denying it, he was continuing to hurt himself.  For Justin to have any chance of getting better, he had to find the courage inside himself to face his own demons; he had to talk about what had driven him to this point in his life.”

Alex dragged his hand across his mouth and shook his head.

“He finally talked to me today.  He finally opened up.”

Brian wanted to close his eyes and put his hands over his ears; he knew that whatever Alex was leading up to was going to cut him open.  And when Alex finally did speak, Brian could only close his eyes and let the words wash over him.

“He finally admitted today that he _did_ try to kill himself; it wasn’t an accidental OD.  It wasn’t even planned out – but Justin made a choice to swallow those sleeping pills; he decided that the only way to deal with the constant pain that he was in was to cut it off at the source.  He said that he wanted to _stop_ ; stop hurting, stop being.  Stop existing.”

In the silence that followed, the only sound that echoed was the soft sound of the girls crying quietly over the speakerphone.  Brian concentrated on breathing; his only other option was to scream, but he was scared that if he started screaming, he wouldn’t stop.  Looking across the room, he locked eyes with Ethan for the first time – the horror that was reflected back towards him in Ethan’s eyes was a mirror image of how Brian himself felt.  Ethan finally managed to find his voice, but his voice was so low that Brian could barely hear it.

“He… he stopped breathing in the bathroom, Alex.”

Alex nodded as Ethan shrunk in on himself; Brian’s heart skipped a beat at the admission, and he swallowed convulsively as fresh grief rolled through his body like a wave at the knowledge of just how close Justin had come to succeeding.

“I had to… I had to breathe for him until the ambulance arrived.  If… if I hadn’t come home early, he would have been dead by the time I found him.”

The tear that slid down Ethan’s cheek spoke of horrific memories, and Ethan abruptly turned within Sam’s arms and buried his face in his throat.  Alex merely closed his eyes as he breathed out steadily through his nose.

“Where is he?” Sam asked softly, and Alex tilted his head back before he answered.

“Justin’s back in Allegheny Hospital; I drove him there this afternoon, and he was voluntarily admitted to the psychiatric unit.”

The room exploded with voices again, and Brian slumped slightly as Emmett’s thumb pressed into his hand and rubbed over the skin in comfort.  Looking back towards Ethan and Sam, Brian watched as Sam ran his hand up and down the curve of Ethan’s spine; his face was turned towards Ethan’s, and he was speaking in a low voice as Ethan’s shoulders continued to jerk.  Alex maintained his silence until the sounds in the room died off, and when Sam spoke, everyone looked towards him.

“What’s he been admitted for, Alex, and for how long?  Do the same rules still apply, or will they be different because it was a voluntary admission?”

His questions caused the family to freeze as they were reminded that this wasn’t the first time that Ethan and Sam had had this type of conversation with Alex.  Alex ran his hands through his hair roughly, and then sat forward.

“He was re-admitted for clinical depression; he’ll also be seeing a nutritionist while he is a patient to get his weight back up to a safer level – he’s at least fifteen pounds lighter than he was when he was first admitted.  As for how long he’ll be in the hospital, I’m not sure, Sam; I don’t even know if the same visitation rules will still apply; as you said, this isn’t like last time.”

“What do you mean?”

It was the first time that Brian had spoken, and his voice came out sounding as though he had been swallowing glass all afternoon.  Alex looked towards Brian and grimaced slightly.

“When Justin was admitted to the unit the first time, he was in lockdown for the first week; he couldn’t take a piss without someone standing in the room with him.  Suicide watch is taken very seriously, Brian; he was watched twenty-fours a day.  For the first week, he wasn’t even allowed visitation; instead, he got intense therapy.”

“And Justin fought it every inch of the way.”

Ethan’s voice was thick with tears as he turned around; those same tears were evident on his face, and Brian swallowed.  The boy looked utterly wrecked; his shoulders continued to jerk as he spoke, sending tears spilling down his cheeks as he twisted his fingers in his lap.

“The first time I spoke to Justin, he begged me to get him out of there; he said he’d do whatever they wanted if I would just take him home.  Do you remember, Alex?  You said it didn’t work in that manner; that until Justin came to terms with why he was in there in the first place, he would continue to be in the hospital.  Justin flipped his shit in a big way; he kept repeating that he was fine, that he just wanted to go home.”

Ethan shook his head as Sam kissed him gently; looking towards Brian, Ethan swallowed and then spoke again.

“The more Alex tried to calm him down, the more agitated Justin became.  He was practically ricocheting off the walls in the end, and when I grabbed him to try and calm him down, he held on so tightly that I thought he’d break my ribs… the nurse in the room ended up sedating him, while I was holding him.  The look on his face when he felt the needle being inserted was one of absolute betrayal… it makes me wonder if that’s where his aversion to being touched during and after therapy comes from,” Ethan said with a glance at Alex, who frowned.

“He was put in a wheelchair,” Ethan continued, “and he sat there and cried the entire time I was kneeling beside him.  He kept pleading with me to take him home; whispering that he was fine, that he wasn’t some weak, sissy faggot.  He didn’t need to be there, he was just _fine_.  Alex let me take him back to his room, and before the sedation fully kicked in, he told me that he’d be whatever I wanted him to be if I would just take him home; then he laughed and said he’d forgotten… he didn’t have a home anymore... he hadn’t had a home since he was seventeen.  He just stayed with people until they got sick of him and kicked him out.”

Brian flinched when Ethan’s words mingled with the memory of telling Justin at Babylon that he would be coming home to him.  Had the loft ever felt like home to his lost boy?  But Ethan was still talking, and Brian forced his mind out of the past and into the pain of the present.

“Then he said, ‘he was right… Brian should have just fucking left me there.’  I asked him what he meant, and he said that he had been told that the family would’ve been better off if Brian had just left him lying in the garage after Hobbs had bashed him.  He said the person who told him that was probably right.  What kind of cunt says something like that?  Losing Justin would tear our whole fucking world apart.  When I told him that, he asked me why would Sam or I care?  We’d already fucked him; he had nothing left to offer us.”

Brian gagged as Ethan’s words washed over him; he could feel Emmett’s hand shaking within his own, and when he glanced at him, he could see the tears that rolled silently down Emmett’s face.  Debbie’s eyes were closed, but the pain on her face was as clear as day.  Vic looked nauseous, and when Brian slowly looked toward Ted, he saw that the other man had his fists clenched in anger.

There was nothing he could do to erase Michael’s words.  Nothing he could do to go back in time to change the way things had gone.  Knowing that Justin had felt that way – that his beautiful boy still felt that way – was crippling.  Swallowing hard, Brian looked towards Alex.

“Who’s with him?” he managed to ask.

“His mother and Daphne met us there; Daphne had his bag, and they were going to stay with him until he was settled for the night,” Alex said gently as he shifted his weight in his seat; he spread his hands and spoke quietly.

“The difference this time is that Justin knows why he is in there; he knows that he needs help, but more than that, he is finally ready to _ask_ for it.  The reason you were all called in tonight is because at some point  you will be asked to attend a therapy session with him.  I spoke at length with Justin this afternoon about what he could expect, and all though he is frightened, he is more open now to the idea of _why_ group sessions are so important to his recovery.”

“Why are they so important?” Vic asked, and Alex glanced at him with a small smile.

“Because the first rule of therapy, Vic, is _honesty_.  Justin has to be honest with himself and with the other person in his session.  He has kept so much locked inside himself, that he is like a pressure cooker – if he doesn’t process what is hurting him, he will eventually self-destruct again.  If you are asked to attend a session with him, be prepared to not only be honest in every word that you say but be prepared to hear the ugliness of Justin’s version of the truth.

“You will have to sit there and listen to what he has to say; you will learn how he thinks and feels.  You already know that he thinks he means nothing to Brian.  That he was an inconvenience to the rest of you.  But you have no idea how hard it is to listen to those words coming out of his mouth; knowing that he _believes_ what he is saying while understanding that his thoughts are wrong.  I know how much every person in this room loves Justin; the hard part will be convincing _him_ of that.”

“ _Will he be able to visit with Gus?”_

Lindsay’s voice was thick with tears as it came over the speaker and Alex smiled slightly.

“I’m hoping that you’ll allow Gus to visit Justin, Lindsay; seeing Gus that day at school was the highlight of this entire cluster fuck.”

“ _Of course, we’ll allow it!  But how do we do it?”_

“I can pick him up,” Sam offered quietly.  “If the same rules apply here, you guys won’t get within ten feet of Justin without it being in a session.  Ethan and I should be able to come and go within normal visiting hours.”

“ _How are you able to do that but we can’t?”_ Lindsay asked, and Sam shrugged.

“Because we’ve been there since Day One, Lindsay,” he pointed out bluntly.  “You haven’t.  I told you that the afternoon you first bought Gus to PIFA.”

“Can I ask how that visit went?” Alex asked when Lindsay fell silent, and Ethan cleared his throat before he spoke.

“We were in the music wing when Justin came through the doors with Gus - Sam and I knew immediately that it was a manipulation.  We weren’t sure who had organized it, but we knew that Gus was there with Justin to drag him closer to the family.  Sam and I spoke while Justin gave Gus his lunch, and then Sam went to see who was waiting while I stayed with Justin.”

“And how did the visit go?” Alex asked, and Ethan shrugged.

“Gus is a very bright little boy; he kept touching the different instruments in the room and laughing when he could make them produce sound.  But it was when he found the piano that he really got excited. He dragged Justin over it and kept touching the keys.  He ended up sitting on my lap and playing the piano with me while Justin drew what he was seeing.”

“I thought that you played the violin,” Emmett offered, and Ethan smirked slightly.

“I can play all instruments, as can Sam.  I just prefer the violin.  They don’t call me a ‘music progeny’ for shits and giggles; God, Justin’s right - that term makes me sound like such a pretentious shit!  Do you remember the first time he called me that, Sam?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with amusement at the memory, and his laughter was rich with humor as it spilled out of him.

“Yep; I didn’t know if you were going to slap him or agree with him and laugh about it; you sat there with your mouth open for a full minute before you started laughing.  I can still remember you telling Justin that he was a princess himself within the art community, and Justin said that he was no princess – he was a fucking queen, and don’t you _ever_ forget it!”

Ethan chuckled as soft laughter echoed around the room and then shook his head.

“Justin was more relaxed with Gus than I have ever seen him with anyone else.  He never flinched away from Gus’s touch – if anything, Alex, he sought it out; kisses, cuddles… and Gus kept burying his hands in Justin’s hair and giggling as he pulled his fingers through the length of it.”

“That’s something I noticed myself today,” Alex admitted.  “Justin has deprived himself of physical comfort for so long that when he is touched, it hurts him.  Physically, mentally… he shies away from it at every opportunity.  You mentioned before, Ethan, that you were holding him when he was sedated that day – I think you might be onto something with that.”

“What do you mean?” Emmett asked.  “Justin’s very tactile as a person – he’s constantly touching the people in his life.  He loves kisses and cuddles.”

“He _did_ ,” Alex said.  “But since he left Brian, he has deprived himself of the most needed form of touch, Emmett – comfort.”

“Why?” Emmett asked, and Alex sighed.

“Self-punishment.  He pushed everyone away while he was in the hospital; Justin was fine with Daphne touching him, and on occasion, Ethan or Sam touching him.  But he couldn’t handle anyone else touching him; he’d step out of their reach if he saw it coming, but if he didn’t, he would flinch.  That’s why he used tricking the way he did – he got absolutely no pleasure out of the act; if anything, it brought him physical pain.  I think he used tricking as a way to try and deal with the mental pain he was in.”

“He can handle touch if it’s him initiating it,” Sam said quietly.  “He’ll lean into me or Ethan – his signal, if you like, that he needs to be held.  But he can only handle it for a minute before he is pushing us away.  He always gets twitchy after being held – like a fucking addict going through withdrawal.”

“He walked into the diner with some kid on Thursday,” Debbie offered.  “He had his arm wrapped around the boy before they entered.”

“You mean Tommy?” Ethan asked, and when Debbie nodded, Ethan shrugged.

“He won’t fuck Tommy… he’s too young.  I think that Justin views Tommy like Gus – a kid who is younger than him; who won’t hurt him.  Someone who wants him for something other than how tight his ass is.”

Debbie blanched at Ethan’s bluntness, while Brian bit back a moan.  He could remember how many times he had tried touching Justin in Alex’s office – touching Justin’s face, or his shoulders, the back of his neck.  Trying to maintain his hold on the slim body he had missed so much, while Justin had struggled to pull away.  And all the while, Justin had been flinching every time that Brian had laid his hands on him.  He’d been hurting the boy, without even knowing it. 

“So, what do we do now?  Do we wait, or…?”

Emmett’s question broke Brian out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at Alex.

“Exactly.  You wait,” Alex said.  “This first week or two is going to involve intensive therapy sessions for Justin.  One-on-one, at least twice a day.  There might be group therapy in the afternoons.  Once he’s in a more stable frame of mind, then we’ll see.  Unlike last time, Justin might be able to go to school and collect his assignments with a social worker, so his grades won’t be affected like the previous time.

“I’ve already spoken to his boss, and Ingrid said she will hold his position for as long as he needs; her little brother apparently committed suicide when he was fourteen.  Justin will be put on medical leave; that will provide him with some money coming in, so he doesn’t have to touch what little savings he’s managed to build up.  And as Daph said to him – his home is with her, and she isn’t going anywhere.”

The meeting broke up not long afterward, the family shuffling off into the night.  Brian stood at the base of the stairs as he inhaled a cigarette; he watched Sam sit in the driver’s seat of his car as the engine rumbled in the quietness of the night while he waited for Ethan to finish talking to Alex.  And when the pretty musician walked down the stairs, he paused at the bottom.  Ethan looked at Brian for a minute, before he sighed and turned away.

“Thank you… for getting home early...before…”

Brian managed to choke the words out of the stranglehold his emotions had put on his throat, and Ethan slowly turned to face him.  For a moment, Brian thought that Ethan was either going to walk away without a word or hit him.  When Ethan finally _did_ speak, it was as if he, too, was having trouble making his voice work, his words coming out as a cross between a plea and a demand.

“Don’t hurt him,” he warned, his voice shaking even though his determination came across loud and clear.  “If you can’t be the man that he needs, then fucking let him go.  He needed someone back then.  I was there.  I did what I had to do… for _him_.  But if he slips back into that dark hole again…”  Ethan’s voice trailed off and his eyes welled with tears.  Shaking his head, he explained, “I’m not some magician, some kind of Wizard of Oz who’s strong enough to help put him back together again…”  He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes.  “He wouldn’t be the only one who was broken.”   

He turned and slowly walked over to Sam’s car without another word.  Brian could only stand there and watch as Sam narrowed his eyes at him before he pulled out into the street and drove away.  Dropping his cigarette onto the ground, Brian turned to head towards his own car, only to pause when he saw Alex standing behind him.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked gently, and Brian laughed bitterly before shaking his head.

“I didn’t think so,” Alex said, and then smiled.  “Come with me,” he said.

Brian swallowed as he nodded before he followed Alex towards his car.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

The hospital was quiet; this wasn’t the emergency room, bustling with noise and activity.  It reminded Brian of long nights spent in beige corridors; of sitting in uncomfortable chairs and peering through the glass pane on a door.  But there was no physical barrier separating him from Justin this time; there was only hurt, pain, and a complete lack of trust.  Brian wondered briefly if the other door had been a lesser punishment than the one that Justin currently possessed in his mind and his heart; the padlock that was there, was there through Brian’s own making.

There was no kind nurse offering him soup or coffee this time.  There was just a single room and the dim glow of the light from beyond the glass walls.  There were no plants on the windowsill, or cheerful cards on the bedside table.  There was only a single bed, and the slim frame of the boy who had smashed down his walls, leaving them in rubble at his feet.  Justin was burrowed under the hospital-issued blankets, lying on his side; his shoulders jerked intermittently, and his face was bleached ivory, indicating hour upon hour of tears spilled in the dark. 

Sitting beside his bed, Brian wondered just how many tears Justin had shed in the dark that he didn’t know about; tears he had shed in this very hospital.  Tears he had shed since leaving Brian.  He gently traced the veins on the back of Justin’s hand where it lay curled under his chin.  There were three different colored hospital bands around his left wrist; white, to show his personal information.  Red, to indicate his many drug allergies.  And blue… blue was to show that he was a patient in the psychiatric unit.

Justin had been mildly sedated; he had apparently had a minor meltdown after his mother and Daphne had had to leave for the night.  Not anger or rage – his anxiety had started to build up, and he had panicked slightly at the thought of being left in the hospital on his own.  The nursing staff had offered him a sedative to help him settle down enough to sleep, and Justin had agreed.  The sedative had allowed him to sleep, but it had done nothing to stop the pain that the boy was feeling.  Brian swallowed hard as Justin jerked again, and another tear slipped down his cheek from under his damp lashes.   

Alex had shown him to Justin’s room, and told him that he had ten minutes – then he would have to leave, and he wouldn’t see Justin again until the boy either asked him to come to a therapy session, or he was discharged.  Staring down at him, Brian shuddered as the events of the meeting heavily weighed him down.  Leaning closer to the bed, Brian pushed the words out of his mouth, even though he knew that Justin couldn’t hear him; still, they needed to be said.

“I’m not giving up… so, don’t you give up.  I swear to God, Sunshine, I will follow you into hell itself and drag your ass out if you even _think_ about giving up,” he whispered as he lifted his hand to stroke his fingertip across the damp trail the latest tear had left behind.  “The devil owes me a few favors; so does the prick upstairs, and I swear, I will haunt your ass for eternity if you…”  He had to stop to compose himself before continuing.  “You can’t go… I won’t let you.  You have to be that tough little shit that I found under the streetlight… I _know_ you… you’re _stronger_ than you think… Justin…”

He heard Alex clear his throat and closed his eyes, his breath shuddering out of him before he slowly rose to his feet.  Brushing his hand across the tousled strands of blond hair, Brian lowered his head and pressed his lips against the side of Justin’s mouth.

“I need you.”

It was scarce a whisper; hardly even a sound.  But he’d said it.  He’d meant it.  And as Brian forced himself to walk out of the room, he silently vowed that if Justin let him back in, he’d do his level fucking best to be the man that Justin needed, and show him how much he wanted the blond in his life.  He was no Jack Kinney clone.  As he’d told his boy in Alex’s office - he was Brian fucking Kinney – and he was stronger than that.


	19. Chapter 19

19.

Emmett rubbed his hands on his pants to wipe them dry; they had been clammy since he had received a phone call from Alex Wilder requesting his presence at Allegheny Hospital.  Justin had been a patient for seven days now; there had been no news on how the boy was doing since he had been re-admitted, however, other than the fact that therapy was draining for him.  But as Teddy had said, at least Justin was _in_ therapy - that was the best way to look at it.

The family itself had met up at Deb’s on last Monday night; over steaming cups of coffee and freshly baked lemon bars, they had been spectators to one of the most painfully intense conversations that Emmett could ever recall listening to.  Michael had been the catalyst for that conversation, where more than just accusations had flown.  Brian had been relatively calm right up until Michael had said his name; after that?  It had taken Ben, Emmett, and Ted to hold him back after Brian had turned around and punched Michael in the face when the man made the mistake of asking how Justin was doing.

Michael had wisely stayed on the ground after Brian had thrown his punch; he hadn’t made excuses, nor had he looked to his mother to fight his battles for him.  He had waited until Brian had been forced into his seat, with Emmett himself sitting on Brian’s lap to keep him in his chair, to even speak.  And when he did, he had merely said that he deserved the punch.  He deserved to lose the respect of the family, his friendship with Brian, and the trust of his partner after he had treated Justin so appallingly.

It was then that Michael had dropped his own bombshell; he was seeking help.  Not with Alex – he didn’t want Justin or Brian to think that he was trying to interfere in the tattered remains of their relationship.  No, he was seeing a therapist through the GLC, and had been since he had stepped over the line with Justin at PIFA.  He had sworn that would be the last time.  Her name was Tatiana, and under her guidance, he was learning to be a better man, friend, and son.

In the silence that followed his revelation, Michael had slowly sat down at the table across from Brian and had laid it all on the line in halting sentences.  Tatiana had helped him see that he had been so scared of losing his place in Brian’s life that he had tried his best to push Justin out.  He could have blamed his shitty behavior on a lack of daddy issues, or any other number of excuses, but that would have been all they were.  Excuses.  And like Brian, he was done making them.  He had fucked up, and he was admitting to it for the first time in his life.

He had been jealous of Justin; of his good looks, his artistic talent, and his intelligence.  But having Brian take the boy to his bed so often had been the proverbial straw for Michael; he could see that his oldest friend was changing for the blond, and it had frightened him.  Afraid of being left behind, he had unconsciously tried to hold onto the Brian that he knew by driving a wedge between the couple.  Michael had kept his eyes on the table the entire time he had spoken, but when he did finally raise them, they had been surprisingly dry.

_“Tatiana has made me see that I told Justin about your tricking, Brian, to hurt him so that he would leave you.  So that **you** wouldn’t leave **me**.  Ma was right; I used him to make my dreams come true, while undermining him at every turn.  I re-enforced his insecurities about his place in your life by reminding him that although you fucked **him** , it was **me** that you turned to for emotional support.  I told him about our history, and the fact that we had known each other for fourteen years, so that he was constantly reminded of the fact that I knew you better than he ever would.  _

_“He had your cock, but I had your heart – after all, you told me you loved me; always have, always will.  You said that in front of him so many times, but you refused to tell Justin that you loved **him**.  I made him feel like he was just a phase in your life; a distraction that you were playing with until you decided it was time to grow up and choose me.  If he complained to me about anything, like he did when you went to Chicago instead of Vermont, I would tell him that he knew the type of person you were; that he couldn’t expect you to change when you were only fucking him – that you weren’t in a relationship._

_“I took his trust and his naivety, and I used it against him; the worst thing I ever did to him was the thing that tipped not only Justin over the edge but me, too.  I knew, even back then, that I had crossed the line.  Justin trying to kill himself was my fault; I’m aware of it, and I must live with that for the rest of my life.  All I can do now is wait and see if Justin is willing to listen to me when I apologize to him.  If it takes me apologizing to him every day until I die for him to believe me, then I swear, I’ll do it.  It’s the very least I can do to try and make it up to him._

_“I don’t need any of you to tell me how ashamed you are of me – no one feels that shame more than I do.  I took a long, hard look at myself after you and I last spoke, Brian, and I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.  Ma was right – she hadn’t raised me to be cruel.  And what I have done is beyond cruelty.  I let you, Ben, the family, and Justin down.  I let myself down._

_“I failed you as a friend by re-enforcing your own insecurities, instead of telling you that you were nothing like your father – by failing to call you out on how you were treating Justin, and pushing you to seek help for the addictions that I helped to not only create, but reinforce every time you looked like you were trying to change.  You have no idea how sorry I am… for everything.”_

Michael had fallen silent after that, and Emmett had wisely remained anchored on Brian’s lap for the duration of the meeting; it was obvious from his friend’s silence that he was nowhere near ready to accept Michael’s apology.  They had agreed to weekly meetings, especially if one of them was summoned for a group session with Justin.  Emmett had received the first offer, and the family as a whole was feeling the same sense of nervousness that was currently invading Emmett’s body.

Brian himself had been impossible to deal with over the last two days since Alex’s call; God love the man, but if he banged on Emmett’s door one more time at two a.m. to remind him of what _not_ to say, Emmett was going to go all diva on his ass.  The man had been so jittery that Emmett had thought he was high on some drug that Anita had cooked up.  But the more Brian twitched and stuttered over his version of advice, the more Emmett had come to realize that Brian was more nervous than he was.   

Emmett sighed softly as he looked up at the imposing building; it wasn’t the first time he had visited Justin at Allegheny Hospital, but the last time had been when Justin had been bashed.  This time, however, the reasons behind Justin’s stay were so much worse.  Emmett had no idea what was going to happen when he saw Justin; no idea how his friend would greet him.  But he knew it wouldn’t be with that beautiful smile, or with a kiss and a hug. 

That boy was lost to Emmett; lost due to malicious gossip and Emmett’s own mistake of not knowing what to say to Justin after he and Brian had broken up.  But as bad as that knowledge was, Emmett knew that Brian was suffering far worse than he was.  Even if Justin forgave Brian and allowed the man back in as his friend, Brian had admitted that he was shit scared that he would end up like Alex: forced to watch as Justin met someone else.  Forced to watch as he fell in love and moved on, leaving him on his own for the rest of his life.  Brian’s fears, admitted drunkenly over beers at Woody’s last night, had broken Emmett’s heart.   

Blowing out another breath, Emmett squared his shoulders and entered the hospital.  Alex’s directions had been straightforward, and Emmett had no trouble finding his way to the psychiatric unit.  He was signed in behind the locked doors, and he followed the serious-faced nurse towards the office that Alex had in the building.  The feeling of melancholy was heavy in the air, and Emmett felt it pressing down upon his shoulders like a physical weight.

The nurse he was following knocked on a door, and as she pushed it open Emmett called on his inner strength and straightened his spine.  The family depended on him to be strong – to smooth the way should Justin reach out to the rest of them.  There was no way he could fail – he missed his baby too much.  Emmett lifted his chin and squared his shoulders; stepping into the room, he swept his gaze over the area, only to have his breath explode out of his lungs in a pained exhalation of air.

Justin stood in front of the vast windows; he was looking out over the parking lot, and his body was backlit by the sunshine that streamed through the windows.  With his hair curling around the nape of his neck, Emmett thought briefly that Justin looked like one of Botticelli’s angels.  But then the boy shifted his weight, and Emmett was bought out of his fanciful thoughts and back to earth with a thud.

That was no angel standing in front of the window; he knew from the tension in those slim shoulders that Justin’s face would be set into mutinous lines.  There would be belligerence in those blue eyes, and a pout on the fullness of his lips.  But as cute as that pout normally was, Emmett knew that if pushed Justin would lose the pout and cut him to the quick with his words.  And after glancing quickly at Alex, he knew that the other man knew it, too.

“Hello, Emmett.  Thank you for coming here today,” Alex said quietly as he gestured towards the couch for Emmett to take a seat.

Emmett nodded as he crossed the room and sank down onto the offered seat.  Looking back towards Justin, Emmett took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then spoke.

“Hi, Justin.”

He was pleased that his voice was steady, but that pleasure fled when Justin didn’t return his greeting.  The blond lowered his chin slightly, and when Alex called his name gently, Justin’s shoulders jerked as if he had been poked with a cattle prod.

“Justin… come and sit down, please,” Alex said firmly, and Justin shook his head.

“I’m fine where I am, thank you.”

Emmett swallowed hard; it had been the first time he had heard Justin’s voice in a long time, and the difference in the boy’s voice was staggering.  There was no laughter in his voice now.  He could clearly hear the unhappiness in Justin’s icy refusal, and he was left wondering how long he had gone missing the sadness in Justin’s voice before the blond had left their little family.  Alex sighed again and shifted in his seat.

“Justin, we’ve spoken about this,” he said softly, and Justin snorted.

“No, _you_ spoke about this, and then _you_ decided what I was going to do,” he said flatly, and Alex pinched the bridge of his nose as Emmett looked between them in bewilderment.  That feeling was cleared up quickly enough when Justin continued to talk.

“I told you that I wasn’t ready for this, that I wanted to speak to Ethan or Sam first.  I don’t recall you telling me that I would be cut off from my friends when I agreed to come back here, Alex.”

“Why is it so important that you speak to them, Justin?” Alex asked, and Justin’s shoulders curled slightly.

“Because I made him a promise, and I’ve already broken it once.  I don’t want to break it again – I try to keep my fucking word when I give it to someone, Alex!”

“What promise?” Alex asked gently, but Justin shook his head, and Emmett watched as Justin raised his hand to his mouth. 

That gesture he knew; Justin was chewing on his thumbnail, a sure sign that he was upset.  He thought quickly over the men in Justin’s life that he could have possibly made a promise to; there was only Sam, Ethan, Gus, and the young boy that Ethan had mentioned.  What was his name again?  The answer came to him so quickly that he was left feeling like he had whiplash, but Emmett knew deep inside that he was right.

“Is this about…Tommy?” he asked hesitantly, and he relaxed when Justin stilled so entirely that he looked like a statue.

Justin’s head turned slightly in the silence that followed; Emmett could see the angle of his jaw, and Emmett bit his lip slightly before he spoke again.

“If you need to get him a message, Justin, I can track him down…if… if you want me to.”

Justin turned his head a little more, and Emmett reached for some courage as he rose to his feet and slowly crossed the room to stand by Justin’s side.  He didn’t look at the blond; he merely kept his gaze on the steady flow of traffic he could see out the window as he deliberately tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat.

That simple gesture had Justin lowering his hand from his mouth.  Emmett could see him in his peripheral vision, and he watched as Justin turned so that he was looking out the window.  The silence between them stretched out slightly, but it didn’t feel brittle.  It was comfortable, and Emmett tried his best to hide his joy when Justin shifted his weight, and their arms brushed briefly.

“I…”

Justin swallowed, and Emmett forced himself to keep looking out the window as Justin shifted again so that there was space between their bodies.

“He’s… _fuck_.”

It was hissed out, and Emmett swallowed hard when he realized that Justin was having trouble asking him for anything.  That realization showed Emmett just how much damage had been done to their friendship, and he pressed his lips together briefly in grief before he spoke.

“You know, Justin, I wasn’t friends with you just because of Brian.  I’d like to think that I was friends with you outside of the Big Bad; I’d like to think that you could ask something of me and that you would _know_ that there were no checks and balances between us,” he said softly.  “I’d like to think that I could come to you from time to time, and just sit with you in silence – that you would realize how I understand that trying to find the words is sometimes harder than making yourself be heard.

“I hope one day that you will hear me out, so I can tell you what REALLY happened.  About how Michael twisted what I had said about Brian into some bullshit that I thought you were something that you are _definitely_ not.  I _never_ thought you were broken, Justin.  I _never_ thought you were a toy – not Brian’s and certainly not mine.  I always viewed you as your _own_ man; a man, who when he looked at me, didn’t see some gossipy queen without an original thought in his head.”

Emmett fell silent as he continued to look out over the parking lot.  He could hear his friend’s breathing, and when that breathing hitched, Emmett closed his eyes briefly as Justin’s voice cracked mid-sentence.

“I made Tommy a prom…a promise to be there for him when he went to Boytoy.  That I would be his friend and look after him.  He’s…. he’s just a kid, and I… I _promised_ him, Emmett.  That _means_ something to me.”

Emmett turned slightly and looked down at Justin when he heard desperation coating his words, and saw that Justin had squeezed his eyes shut.

“When does he go to Boytoy?”

“On Monday.”

It was mumbled, and Emmett immediately saw why Justin was so rattled.  Tomorrow would be the second Monday in a row that he had failed to meet up with Tommy, and when Justin peeked up at him, Emmett flashed him a quick smile.

“I’ll find him for you, Justin; do you want him to know where you are?  Or do you just want to make sure he’s safe when he’s at Boytoy?” Emmett asked sincerely, and Justin’s lips parted before he shrugged helplessly when the words refused to come.

“I’ll find him, baby,” Emmett said softly, and if it sounded like a promise, neither man mentioned it.  “What’s his full name?”

Justin swallowed hard before he slumped slightly.

“Tommy Vance.”

“And if he’s not there tomorrow night?”

Justin’s squinted slightly before he shook his head.

“He’ll be there; he’s _always_ there on a Monday.  He’ll get there around seven, and Ari always makes sure the younger ones are out no later than ten.”

Emmett nodded, and when Justin finally looked up at him, he could see the fight that Justin was having with himself; could his friend allow himself to trust him, or was he better off not believing him in case the nelly queen let him down again?  The confusion in his eyes was more than apparent, and Emmett could no more stop himself than he could prevent the sun from rising.  He turned towards the blond and reached out to briefly cup his face in his hands before he drew him gently into his arms. 

He felt Justin stiffen and raised his hand to gently run it down Justin’s spine as he tilted his head to rest it against the crown of his head.  He never tightened his arms; he never mentioned the fact that Justin was trembling slightly within his embrace as he lifted his head slightly and kissed that soft blond hair, before resting his head against it again. 

“I am so sorry that you doubt me at the moment, baby; that you doubt how much you mean to me.  I won’t let you down,” Emmett vowed quietly.  “I’ll find him; I’ll find your Tommy, and I’ll bring him here myself on Tuesday, okay?  I promise.”

Nestled in Emmett’s arms, Justin gradually stopped twitching.  And when he finally nodded, Emmett blew out an unsteady breath and closed his eyes as Justin’s whole body shuddered; he went from holding himself rigidly, to finally curling into Emmett’s arms like he had once done.  Justin didn’t speak for the remainder of their time together; he stood by the window, curled into the warmth of Emmett’s body, as Emmett ran his hand up and down Justin’s back slowly, maintaining the silence that Justin was so obviously seeking.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

The flashing lights and the thumpa-thumpa were similar to Babylon; the beautiful boys who twisted to the dark, techno beat were not.  Smooth skin, much younger faces, and the tinge of excitement in the air replaced the tumbling glitter and the ghostly echo of Brian Kinney calling Gary Saperstein a rapist.  Emmett hadn’t stepped foot in Boytoy in several years; Babylon had been his playground, but maybe one day the young twinkies who were dancing below would offer up the excitement that a man like Emmett looked for.  But he wasn’t here to find a playmate; he was here to locate the young boy that clearly meant so much to Justin.

Alex stood by his side, and Emmett was grateful that he wouldn’t be visiting the alcove and learning just how far Justin had slipped away.  No, he knew where Justin was – tucked up safe and warm, and being given the best possible care there was.  But déjà vu continued to hit Emmett, none more so than when Alex reached up and gripped his chin in his fingertips.  He allowed the man to turn his face, and following his outstretched arm, he finally spotted the slim brunet that Alex was pointing towards as the young man handed his school ID over and scrawled his name in the sign-in book as he chatted with the bouncers.

The boy was beautiful – he appeared delicate, but the white shirt he wore was unbuttoned, and as he headed towards the dance floor, the material moved across his body, allowing Emmett a tantalizing peek of the lightly sculpted muscle tone on his stomach and chest.  His hair was so dark it looked black, and it was cut in such a way that it hung in jagged layers across the curved lines of his face as he began to move with the music.  While he was definitely a baby twink, Emmett knew that there was more to this boy than met the eye – there had to be for Justin to have offered his friendship to one so young. 

“Is that him?” Emmett inquired, and Alex nodded.

“Yep; that’s Tommy.  Are you going to go and talk to him?” Alex asked, but Emmett shook his head.

“No, not yet.  Let him dance for a bit before I ruin his night, telling him about Justin.”

Alex nodded, and then pointed towards the glass office.  Emmett nodded as he leaned against the balustrade of the second floor and took a sip of his virgin Cosmo.  He missed the tang of the alcohol, but sipped the drink that Alex had bought him regardless as he watched Tommy close his eyes while he moved to the driving beat of the music.  Watching the boy, Emmett had to wonder why Justin was so taken with him – it wasn’t like they could date – not if Justin wanted to keep his delectable little tushy out of prison. 

Tommy could dance, and incredibly well – maybe that was what had caught Justin’s attention.  Justin would have recognized his talent; would have been moved to capture the flow of the boy’s body on paper or canvas.  Emmett had lost count of the amount of times that he had seen Justin drawing things that were in motion; people, trees, animals… the list was endless, and Tommy’s body in motion was pure poetry. 

Emmett finished his drink as he continued to watch Tommy dance before he finally made his way downstairs and across the crowded dance floor.  He lost sight of the boy for a few minutes, and when he found the boy again, he was dancing with his back towards Emmett.  Emmett reached out and gently tapped Tommy on the shoulder.  He spun around, and Emmett sighed when he saw the smile that was shining on Tommy’s face fade away.

“What?”

Emmett gestured the boy to follow him, and when Tommy hesitated, Emmett held his hand out.  Tommy tilted his head warily as he eyed Emmett’s outstretched hand, and Emmett sighed again.

“It’s about Justin!” he shouted, and Tommy’s eyes widened, but he finally reached for Emmett’s hand and allowed the taller man to tug him off the dance floor.

Tommy followed Emmett up to the office on the second floor; he maintained his silence as Emmett handed the responsibility over to Alex to explain why they were there, and instead looked at the young man in front of him.  And in looking at him, Emmett wondered what else had attracted Justin to the younger man.  It wasn’t just his dancing ability, although that would have drawn Justin’s attention the first time he saw the kid move his slender body. 

Was it the innocence that he wore like a second skin?  The kid was pure – young, unashamedly gay, and not trapped by the bullshit of Liberty Avenue.  Tommy listened with wide eyes as Alex explained who he was, where Justin was, and why.  Maybe it was the emotion that Tommy wore on his sleeve – his heartbreak was more than apparent in those stunning grey eyes as he chewed on his thumbnail before he dropped his hand into his lap and looked between the two men expectantly.

“When can I come and see him?”

“Tomorrow?” Alex ventured, and Tommy nodded.

“I finish school at two.  It might take me a while to get there by bus.”

“I can come and get you,” Emmett offered, and Tommy turned those wide eyes towards him.

“I don’t know you,” he said by way of answer, and Emmett smiled slightly.

“Well, do you want to come to the diner with me, and have a milkshake while we get to know each other?  You know Ari – he can vouch for Alex, and Alex can vouch for me.”

Tommy tilted his head, and when he glanced towards Alex, the man nodded with a small smile.

“Emmett’s one of the good ones, Tommy; he and Justin were very close at one time.”

Tommy looked back towards Emmett and then narrowed his eyes slightly.

“What do you mean by… they were close at _one_ time?  What?  Did you abandon him when he needed you most?  Is that why you aren’t close anymore?  Because I can tell you right now, if _that_ is what you are vouching for, I’ll take the freaking bus, thanks.”

Emmett’s jaw dropped; he knew it was, and he couldn’t help it.  Nor could he help the huff of laughter that escaped his mouth when the lightbulb finally went on for him; this is what had drawn Justin to Tommy – Tommy’s fire and his loyalty, were exactly the same as Justin’s.

“What?”

Emmett grinned when he heard the snarl in Tommy’s voice and he shook his head.

“I’ve been watching you and wondering how you and Justin became friends.  I just figured it out,” Emmett said with a smile, and when Tommy raised his eyebrow in an exact replica of Justin’s, Emmett grinned again.  “You’re just like him; balls-to-wall brave, and not scared to tell it how it is.  Let me guess; your friends would consider you incredibly loyal, too, right?”

Tommy chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment before a mischievous smile crossed his face.

“Something like that,” he said cheekily; he glanced down at himself and then began to button his shirt.  When he finally looked back up, he smiled again.

“I’ll have a chocolate milkshake, thanks, and some fries…what?!” he said when Emmett hooted with laughter.

Emmett simply shook his head in amusement as Tommy rubbed his stomach thoughtfully; exchanging fond smiles with Alex, he rested his hand on Tommy’s back and led him from the office.  Emmett waited patiently as Tommy signed out of the club, and when he made Emmett wait again while he rang his father to let him know that he was going to the diner, Emmett forced back his sigh. 

It was only after hanging up that Tommy explained that Justin had told him to never go anywhere with a stranger without letting someone else know first.  Emmett smiled at the boy gently for his defense of the blond, and wrapping his arm around Tommy’s slender shoulders, Emmett led the boy towards the diner.  Upon their arrival, Debbie greeted them both with a red lipstick print to the cheek, but when she went to ruffle Tommy’s hair, Emmett was reduced to laughter again at the indignant squawk the boy let out as he batted Debbie’s hands away from his head.      

“Justin warned me about her lipstick and hair-ruffling tendencies,” Tommy said darkly as he patted his hair back into place, and Emmett snickered as he led Tommy towards the booth at the back of the diner.

Tommy slid into the booth, and then smiled up at Emmett when the nelly queen took his place in the seat across from him.  And as promised, they spent the next hour getting to know each other over chocolate milkshakes and greasy fries.  Emmett learned about Tommy’s dancing abilities and his plans for the future.  Who his friends were, and the fact that his mother had passed away a few years ago from cancer.  It was just he and his dad now.  But unlike so many of them, Tommy spoke about a parent who’s love and support were unwavering.

“Dad moved his business here a little over a year ago; he wanted me to have the best shot at getting into a fine arts school.  I suggested that we move to New York, but Dad said no.  He was happy being a big fish in a little pond, whereas if we moved to New York, then he’d be a little fish in an ocean full of sharks.  Besides, New York is only an hour away by plane – once I go to school, I can come home to him whenever I want.”

Emmett rested his chin on his fist as Tommy finished his milkshake.

“So, you and your Daddy are close?” he asked, and Tommy nodded.

“He’s all I’ve got.”

“And how did he handle you telling him you were gay?” Emmett asked, and Tommy grinned and shook the hair out of his eyes.

“He knew long before I did; when he suspected that there was a high possibility that I was gay, Dad went to the library, got on-line, and he spoke to people in the GLC to educate himself.  It was kind of a letdown in a way when I _did_ come out to him; he just smiled at me and asked me to pass the salt.  It was like… here’s this earthshattering _thing_ , and he wanted the fucking salt, you know?”

Tommy huffed out the sound of husky laughter, and Emmett couldn’t help but smile at the bright sound. 

“So, I passed him the salt, and after we had eaten dinner, he sat me down and told me everything I could expect.  Nothing is ever taboo with my Dad – I can ask him whatever I want, and he’ll answer it, even if the tips of his ears DO go red.  He was the one who found out about Boytoy when we moved here – he came down here and he spoke to Ari, and then he came home and told me that he had found me a safe space to explore what being gay meant to _me_ ; where I wouldn’t feel scared because I was looking at another boy, or dancing and kissing one.”

Tommy looked down at the table and shook his head.

“I can still remember the first time I saw Justin walk into Boytoy.  Sam was deejaying that night, and I saw Ethan talking to this blond guy, and then he turned around.  It was like…bam!  You know?  Instant recognition in a way.”

“Are you in love with him?” Emmett asked softly, and Tommy snorted.

“Fuck, no!  Look, I care about Justin; he’s one of the nicest people I know, and I’ll admit it – I have a massive crush on him.  Would I want him to be my boyfriend?  Of course – who wouldn’t?  But I’m not in love with him.  Justin warned me… I think it was the third time I spent time with him… not to fall in love with him.  He said that he cared what I thought about him, and that I was one of only a few people he could stand to be around.  He didn’t want to hurt me in any way, and he was so fucking scared that he was unknowingly toying with my feelings…”

Tommy tucked his hair behind his ear and ducked his head slightly as a blush stole over his cheeks.

“He gave me my first kiss; he didn’t even laugh at me when I blew my load in my jeans.  And it took me several weeks to convince him to give me that kiss.  I told him that I wanted my first kiss to be perfect; to be with someone I cared about, and who knew what they were doing.  But even though he eventually agreed to kiss me, he still told me that although I had given him the gift of that first kiss, he couldn’t give me anything else but friendship.”

Tommy frowned as he looked down at the table; scraping his nail across the worn formica, he pursed his lips as he thought back on the conversation that he had had with Justin a week or so earlier.  Emmett left him to his thoughts as he looked out across the diner.  When Tommy finally looked at Emmett, it was with troubled eyes.

“It should have surprised me when you told me that Justin was in a hospital for mental health issues; not a guy who makes you feel like you’re king of the world when he smiles at you.  But it didn’t, Emmett.”

“Why do you say that?”

Emmett winced when his voice came out as a croak, and he cleared his throat as Tommy bit the corner of his mouth before he sighed.

“We came here on Thursday after I found out about Tisch; we were talking about my dance audition, and how he understood that when I lose myself in the music, that is the only time I am completely free.  That I want to go to Tisch more than I have ever wanted anything in the world.  He understands how I feel, because he feels the same way when he is drawing.  He said that his art was the one place he felt safe, the one place where he could lose himself.

“Some guy came up and hit on him while we were here, and when Justin said he wasn’t interested, the guy asked if he was back in Kinney’s bed.  I couldn’t believe it… this guy was openly insinuating that being this Kinney asshole’s bed warmer was all that Justin was good for, you know?  Justin went kinda weird after that; I was asking him about being someone’s boyfriend, and he said that my age had nothing to do with why he couldn’t give me that type of relationship – he said he couldn’t give it to anyone.  He, uh…he said he was damaged goods.”

Tommy looked back down at the table and jerked his shoulder.

“The thing is, Emmett, Justin isn’t damaged – not in the way he thinks.  I know his brain is all twisty right now, but when he gets better?  He’ll learn that there are plenty of men outside of Liberty Avenue who would love to date him.  Who would be proud to call him their boyfriend.  He told me not to waste my virginity on a guy who just thinks I’m hot – to wait to find someone who loves me completely.  Someone who will treat me like gold, you know? 

“He said that I should hold out until I find someone to make love with – he said that he’d had his fair share of fucking, but I honestly don’t think that he’s ever made love or been made love to.  I want that for him; I want him to find a man who will look beyond how pretty Justin’s outer package is and discover how beautiful he truly is.  I want him to find a man who doesn’t allow him to feel like he is nothing more than a fuck buddy – a man who will treat him like gold.  I want that for him more than I want Tisch for myself.”

Emmett closed his eyes as the heavy feeling of guilt and grief settled down upon his shoulders.  He had had a hand in Justin feeling like this; while Michael’s words had been disgusting, Emmett’s disregard of Justin’s feelings for Brian had also done damage.  Turning his attention back to Tommy, Emmett reached out and lightly brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” he said quietly.  “And I’ll take you to see Justin; he could use all the friends he can get right now, and you, my darling Tommy, are one in a million.  I’m so glad that he has you in his life.  Thank you for letting me get to know you tonight.”

Tommy blushed, the delicate pink shade spreading over his cheeks as he ducked his head.  But the smile he shot Emmett reminded him of another sweet boy; one who, Emmett hoped, would eventually forgive him for his mistreatment.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Separately, both boys were beautiful.  But tangled together the way they were, they were truly breathtaking.  Tommy was cuddled up to the blond on the bed in Justin’s room; sitting between Justin’s legs, with his back to Justin’s chest, he rested his head on the curve of Justin’s shoulder, while Justin wrapped his arms loosely around Tommy’s waist, leaving Tommy to toy with his fingers as they spoke.  Justin’s legs were tangled with Tommy’s, and their faces brushed every time Tommy turned his head to grin up at him. 

The relief on Justin’s face when Tommy had walked into the room earlier had been as clear as day, and he had wrapped both arms around the younger boy without hesitation when Tommy had walked over to Justin and slipped his arms around his waist without comment.  But when Tommy raised himself up on tiptoe and kissed Justin softly on the cheek, Emmett saw the innocence of the friendship between them, and how Tommy’s innocence was like a balm to Justin’s soul. 

Curled up like puppies on the single bed, they spoke in low tones as Emmett watched over them.  He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but he enjoyed the rise and fall of their voices, and the musical quality Tommy’s laughter had to it as he giggled over something that Justin murmured.  And when Justin looked up and a small smile curved his lips as he and Emmett locked eyes, Emmett finally felt some of the pressing weight on his shoulders shift.  There had been thanks in Justin’s steady gaze.  And as the blond lowered his head back towards Tommy’s so they could continue their conversation, Emmett sent up a prayer that maybe one day, he, too,  would see forgiveness.  


	20. Chapter 20

Brian tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and lowered his head as he walked across the campus parking lot at PIFA.  He hadn’t told any of the family what he was doing today.  He hadn’t wanted it to turn into a group outing or an impromptu ‘therapy session,’ where everyone meant well but had no idea what they were really talking about.  Take Debbie - she had admitted that she had stepped out of line when Justin had come into the diner with Tommy; she said she had been so happy to see the blond that she had forgotten this was a different Justin from the one she was so used to dealing with. 

Tommy’s first venture to Liberty Avenue had almost ended before it began; Debbie had said that Justin hadn’t given her an inch – he had merely silenced her with nothing more than a cold look.  Gone was what little ground she had made with her Sunshine, and she had been horrified to realize that she was firmly back at square one after she had, in her words, questioned Justin about how young Tommy was.  Debbie had stuttered over her words when she said that Justin had reminded her that Tommy’s feelings would never be annihilated the way his feelings had been.  

That single sentence had thrown a heavy pall over the family meeting.  Alex had been right; when faced with the truth, there was an ugliness to it that no one had been previously aware of.  It was then that Emmett had finally opened up about his talk with both Justin and Tommy.  He had quietly spoken about Justin’s icy reception to his visit, and the desperation the blond had shown to keep his word to the young man, and Emmett’s own effort to reach out to his friend.

The more Emmett had spoken about Tommy, the more Brian had realized just who the boy was to Justin; he could see his own lost innocence in the pretty little twink he had befriended.  And from what Emmett had said, Justin would fight tooth and nail to protect Tommy.  He would  protect him from having the same experiences that had forever changed him from an idealistic youth to a shell of someone who had lost both direction and purpose.

Then Emmett had shuddered, and his unhappiness had been apparent when he had spoken about what Tommy had told him: about the currently unknown - who wouldn’t remain unknown for long - asshole who had hit on Justin in the diner and had insinuated that he had been nothing more than a bed warmer.  Brian had felt the first real curl of burning anger sweep across his body as Emmett had spoken; he envisioned tearing said man’s head off and using it as a bowling ball.  But that burn had slowly turned to ice when Emmett had revealed that Tommy had mentioned how Justin had openly referred to himself as damaged goods.

In listening to Emmett talk about the man from the diner, Brian had finally opened not only his eyes but his ears as well; he was used to the whispers that followed him.  Used to the admiring looks and lustful suggestions as he moved throughout his day.  What he wasn’t used to, however, was hearing the whispers about Justin.  Whispers that spoke of jealousy and desire.  Whispers that swirled around the beautiful, blond twink who had suddenly reappeared on Liberty Avenue; older, hotter, and without Kinney glaring at anyone who looked twice at his gorgeous boy.

Whispers about the fact that he was no longer Kinney’s private fuck; did that mean he would be open to dating other men?  Murmurs of wanting to be the first man who bedded Kinney’s exclusive property, now that he was finished with him; the twink’s ass had to be nirvana to have held Brian Kinney’s attention for so long.  The more Brian heard, the worse he began to feel.  If this is what Justin had been forced to put up with, along with the shit Brian had dished out to him, it was no wonder his former lover didn’t want to come home to him. 

In being Brian’s…whatever the fuck you wanted to call him… he had all but destroyed what remained of Justin’s innocence after first Craig Taylor, and then Chris Hobbs, had sullied it.  It was no wonder that Justin referred to himself as damaged goods.  It had hurt Emmett to reveal those words; he hadn’t been able to maintain eye contact with Brian during his reiteration.  And it had hurt Brian to listen to them being repeated back.  

In hearing those whispers, Brian had begun to realize just how much damage his own denial of any type of relationship with Justin had done.  And with that realization came the crushing knowledge that what he had thought was going to be a fight to get Justin back was, in fact, going to be a damn near impossibility.  He not only had to fight against Justin’s own preconceived ideas, but also the whispers and his own shouts that had taunted him every day.

Then there was what Ethan had revealed the first time they had all come together as a group; when he had spoken about Justin’s first hospitalization, and the way his boy had pleaded with Ethan to get him out of there.  Ethan had said that Justin had promised that he’d be whatever Ethan wanted him to be if the other boy would just take him home… That plea continued to echo for Brian, and it twisted with Daphne’s words from the day she had verbally abused him at the diner; she had told Brian that she hoped he would meet someone that he loved so much that he would twist himself into someone unrecognizable. 

Is that what Justin had done?  Had he turned himself into what he had thought Brian wanted him to be in an effort to please him?  Is that what the rules and their date nights had been about?  Had Justin even enjoyed the hunt and subsequent fucks that they had shared?  Or had he thought that in order to be with Brian, that he had to engage in public fucking and orgies?  The thought sickened him.  He had agreed to their rules to get Justin back; but those fucking rules had given Justin the tools to start building the walls and doors that now separated them.

Brian’s need to maintain control over the illusion of his fucking reputation had done this; Justin had locked his side of the door to protect himself.  But now he was a prisoner of his own making, much like Brian had been before Justin’s suicide attempt had forced the man to open his eyes and take a long, hard look at himself.  While Justin’s sheer tenacity had broken down Brian’s walls, Brian himself had no fucking idea how to break though Justin’s walls to where his boy was fighting to keep his head above his pain and misery.

Alex had said that Justin had never admitted to a suicide attempt – that he had denied it at every turn.  Brian had thought back to that first meeting with Justin in Alex’s office; Justin had never actually come out and said that he had tried taking his own life.  He had merely said that he was facing the consequences of his actions.  But in looking back, Brian was forced to realize that what he had thought was an admission was, in truth, another denial.  Alex had been right – Brian had taught the boy well. 

Brian had been left wondering if that meeting had been the final cliff that Justin had been clinging to; that in confronting him, Justin had been forced to face his own actions.  What if his idea of a step forward toward sorting things out had merely been the final moments of free-fall for Justin.  Those thoughts kept him awake far more often than he wanted to admit; thinking about the pain that Justin now had to face, a journey that he seemed determined to take on his own.                

Brian looked up as the hum of laughter and conversation reached his ears when he stepped into the building and out of the fresh wind.  There were a few people starting to enter the student building; chuckling and talking about the art they were looking at as they walked around the brightly lit room.  Soft music played in the background, and as Brian glanced around the room, a frown crossed his face when he saw the photographs that were displayed on the walls. 

There were no paintings – no drawings, or sculptures of vaginas like there had been at the last art show Brian had gone to that Justin had been featured in.  Nothing that screamed out that it was Justin’s work that might provide a glimmer of his inner thoughts that Brian could look at and try to decipher.  Looking around the room at all the black and white photos, Brian thought back to the phone call he had received from Lindsay, and the message that Sam had hidden within his carefully chosen words:  

_“Sam said that Justin is going to have to drop out of PIFA; his scholarship application was turned down, and he can’t afford to pay the eight thousand dollars by next week.  He said it was a shame, Brian, because Justin was selected to show off his work in the student art show next month.”_

Brian knew a manipulation when he heard one; he had never been more grateful, however, to part with the money he had paid to ensure that Justin could continue his education.  The money meant nothing; not when it had motivated Justin to seek him out a week later.  Even though it had been to verbally tear his balls off, the young man had still been the one to make the first move.

Looking around the room again, Brian went to the right, trying to avoid the people who had automatically veered left; he shook his head slightly before he started checking out each grouping of photographs.  Maybe Sam had gotten the art show in question wrong – maybe there was one for drawings or paintings at another time or in another buil… Brian stopped dead in his tracks then; his mouth dropped open, and he found himself rooted to the spot as his eyes slowly trailed over the glossy black and white photograph that he was looking at. 

He knew that ass – he had intimate knowledge of that ass; he had seen the image of what had been captured on glossy paper more times than he could count.  Closing his eyes against the photograph of Justin sprawled so temptingly on the tangled sheets, Brian drew in a calming breath.  But when he slowly opened his eyes again, he was faced with the same set of photographs that not only took his breath away, but also caused a real problem with just how tightly strained his jeans had become in the crotch.

There were seven photographs in the series, and Brian slowly trailed his eyes over each one.  The one of Justin naked in Brian’s bed at the loft was the most risqué, but it was also done in the most innocent of ways.  Justin lay on his stomach, and the photographer had captured the image of Justin looking upward in the foreground from the foot of the bed, while managing to show the creamy span of his back and the tempting rise of his ass in the background.  His hair was tousled, the flushed look on his face one that Brian remembered well; there was love showing in Justin’s eyes, and Brian wondered briefly if Justin had been thinking about him when the photographer had captured this image.

He wondered, as he trailed his eyes over every inch of the photograph, when it had been taken.  He marveled that the lights in the background, even when printed in black and white, had still managed to cast the illusion of a blue tint over Justin’s skin.  He couldn’t remember Justin having someone over - perhaps he had been out of town when this particular photograph had been taken - either way, Brian didn’t care.  To see actual imagery of Justin in his bed was causing his skin to break out in goosebumps. 

Dragging his eyes away from the photograph, Brian forced himself to look at the other ones.  There was one of Justin bracing himself against a wall, talking to a young, muscular man who was leaning into his personal space.  Brian knew the look that had been captured on Justin’s face; his boy was on the prowl.  It was in the hint of tongue that Brian could see peeking out of the corner of Justin’s mouth – he didn’t need to see Justin’s fingers coiled through the other boy’s belt loops to know that Justin had been mere seconds away from leading the guy somewhere for a quick fuck.

But what made the photograph so artistic was the way Justin was partially hidden in the shadows.  His hair and parts of his face had been caught in the sunlight; it was a beautiful play on naughty and nice.  Innocent and predatory.  It was in the jut of the other boy’s hip, and the invitation that he could clearly read on Justin’s face.  In his lowered lashes, and that tempting peek of tongue – Brian had never been able to keep his hands off Justin when he had looked at him like that.      

There was a photograph of Justin standing in an art studio, a fierce look of concentration on his face captured as he stared at the canvas he was sketching out while he balanced a slim paintbrush between his teeth.  There were smears of charcoal on his fingers and one that stretched across his cheekbone where he had evidently wiped his face, leaving a dark smudge against the paleness of his skin.  There were white lines of what Brian knew to be paint against the seat of his cargo pants; a perfect handprint, captured on paper and frozen in time.

Another one showed him sitting on the floor in what was apparently a music room; he was leaning against the leg of a piano with a sketchbook resting against his knees as he threw his head back in laughter.  His face was open and relaxed, and his humor came through so clearly that Brian could hear the echo of Justin’s laughter in his mind as he stared at the photograph.  He was laughing at Ethan, who was in the background; the musician was sitting on a chair with a pained look on his face as he watched a younger student draw her bow across a violin. 

Brian swallowed hard; he could tell from the length of Justin’s hair that these particular shots had been taken before the Rage launch.  He could easily see the open delight on Justin’s face and the amusement that clearly showed in his eyes.  He could tell from the way that his whole face lit up with his laughter; laughter that echoed, along with the ghostly echo of ‘Sunshine!’, a moniker that his boy had earned when he smiled the way he was in this photograph.

But when he moved his eyes to the next photograph, Brian felt his stomach drop.  This photograph had been taken in subdued lighting - a bar on campus, perhaps; Brian didn’t recognize the décor, but he knew the glint of bottles that twinkled in the background.  Justin was sitting at the bar on his own; lost in thought, you could clearly see the unhappiness on Justin’s face as he stared down into his glass.  The sunshine was gone, hidden beneath the dark look on Justin’s face.

Brian had seen Justin sulk before.  Had seen him lost in thought, and beyond devastated when faced with the threat of not being able to attend PIFA.  The gift of a computer had helped take care of that look, and yet Brian could still remember seeing it.  But he had never seen the darkness of Justin’s thoughts stamped so plainly on his face.  His boy was more than unhappy – there was heartache on his face, shown so clearly in the downward turn of his lips and the lines between his brows that exposed complete and utter defeat.

Dragging his eyes away from the photo, Brian’s eyes slid to the next shot.  It had been taken on campus; Justin sat at a table in the courtyard, with his duffel bag lying at his feet.  Sam was straddling the bench seat, and Justin was wrapped up in his arms; with Sam’s hand curled around the nape of Justin’s neck, and their foreheads pressed together, Justin’s face was ravaged in pure grief.  Brian didn’t need to see the tears on Justin’s cheeks to know that his boy had lost his shit in a big way, and that Sam was trying to hold him together.

Brian felt his breath shudder out of him, and he dragged his hand down over his mouth as he stared at the photograph.  His fingers itched to reach out and trace the tears that were so apparent on Justin’s face.  His mask was gone, and the anguish that Justin was feeling looked as if it was literally tearing him to pieces.  This wasn’t the boy who had walked out of Babylon the night before with a Mona Lisa smile for Brian.  This was the boy who had stolen into the loft while Brian had been at work and had packed all that he owned into a single, dilapidated bag.      

Tearing his eyes away from the proof of how badly he had fucked up when he had thrown Justin off the cliff, Brian looked at the last photograph in the series; he blanched when he saw where and when it had been taken.  Justin was dressed in pajama pants and a tee-shirt; there were three bands wrapped around his wrist, and he was leaning against a window ledge, with his face turned slightly towards the camera.  Brian only just managed to bite back the moan that wanted to spill out when he saw the complete lack of expression on Justin’s face. 

His boy looked half dead; gone were the happiness, love, and joy that had once shone from Justin’s eyes.  Gone were the grief and the anger.  Brian would have preferred even those emotions to the utterly blank look that had been captured on Justin’s face.  To see him like this; to compare the first four photographs to the final three – to know that it had been taken while Justin had been in the hospital after he had tried taking his own life - was more than Brian could bear. 

Looking around the room, Brian caught sight of a man with a clipboard who was nodding as a young woman spoke to him.  Crossing over to the pair, Brian managed to make his voice work as he gestured back to the exhibit.

“Those photographs… did the young man in them sign a waiver allowing you to display his image so publicly?” he asked, and the man frowned as he glanced down at the woman standing beside him who went bright red as she lowered her eyes and fidgeted with her skirt.

“He should have – Renee?  Did you get Justin to sign the forms?”

When Renee finally shook her head, there was a pleading expression on her face when she looked back up.

“Justin hasn’t been in school for two weeks; I didn’t think it would matter,” she stammered, and the man with her cringed.

“Renee… I told you when you showed me your work that although the first five images were fine, you needed Justin’s _express_ permission to show the other two.”

Glancing back at Brian, the man shook his head.

“I’ll find out where Justin is, and get him…”

“Take them down.”

Brian’s voice was as hard as steel; shrouded in icy anger, he gestured back towards the exhibit.

“I know where he is; he won’t sign for those two photographs.  Take them all down, or _I_ will.”

“And you are?” Renee asked snidely, and Brian felt the anger inside him flare, giving him his voice and the words that came from the pit of his stomach.

“I’m his partner!” he spat, and as Brian steadied internally from the rightness of the word on his tongue, Renee lowered her eyes as the man reached out and offered Brian his hand.

“I’m David Lee; I’m a professor here at PIFA.  I’m sorry if seeing these images has upset you.  I’ll have them removed immediately.  Renee?”

“But it’s MY work!  No one has even looked at it yet!” Renee cried, and Brian glared at her until she shrank into herself.

“It’s a violation of his goddamn privacy!  You want to show him picking up a trick, or hanging out with his friends, that’s fine.  But you do not show him in the hospital; I have no idea how you managed to get that photograph of him, but you do not show it!  How would you like it if someone splashed _your_ personal business all over the school for everyone to see and judge?”

Renee blanched, and without further comment, she hurried across the room and carefully untacked the photographs.  Shuffling them into a pile, she walked back over to where the two men were standing with the photographs held against her chest.  When David took the photographs from her and promptly handed them to Brian, she bit back whatever argument she was going to make when her professor glared at her.

“I want the negatives and any other storage devices that hold these, Renee.  I suggest you go and get them right now,” David said sternly, and she nodded before hurrying from the room.     

Glancing back at Brian, David swallowed before he offered Brian his hand again.

“I’m sorry that this happened,” David said quietly.  “I didn’t know that she hadn’t followed the correct protocols; being a first-year doesn’t give her the excuse of ignorence.  I made sure that each student understood that this exhibit was an honor, and that they needed permission from their subject to display their images.”

Clenching the photographs tightly in his hand, Brian managed to nod, before he turned on his heel without further comment.  Lowering his head, he turned and left the photography exhibition as silently as he had entered it.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Brian’s nerves were showing, in the way his knee kept bouncing as he shifted his weight on the seat, and how his eyes kept darting towards the door.  He hadn’t had a direction in mind when he had left PIFA.  He had ended up at Vanguard for a while, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate; he couldn’t even remember the drive after leaving work, but when he turned the jeep off and looked up, he found himself in the parking lot of Allegheny hospital.  Brian turned his brain off when he realized where he was; ignoring the impression that this was a monumentally stupid idea, he made his way inside and asked if Justin was available to visit.

The nurse at the visitor’s desk quietly said that she didn’t have a Justin Taylor listed as being admitted, but when Brian blew out a deep breath and mumbled that he was in the psychiatric unit, understanding washed over her face.  He was asked to wait, while she made some inquiries.  Ten minutes later, Brian was greeted by Alex himself as the man walked through the doors that separated him from his boy.

“Brian.  Why are you here?  I told you that you couldn’t see Justin unless it was within a therapy session, or he was discharged,” Alex asked, and Brian shook his head helplessly as the memory of those photographs continued to flicker in his mind.

“I want to see him,” he said firmly, and Alex sighed when he heard the determination in Brian’s voice.

“Brian,” Alex began as he shook his head, and then he sighed as he ran his eyes carefully over Brian’s face.  Brian would never know what Alex saw on his face in that moment, but Alex’s own face softened.  “Okay; come with me.  I’ll see if there is a room available for us.”

Brian reached out as Alex rose from the chair and grasped the other man’s wrist briefly.

“Alex… not in a therapy session.  I just want to see him.”

Alex looked at Brian for a silent minute before he finally nodded.  He led Brian to the locked doors of the unit, and swiped his card to let them in.  Dragging his hand down over his mouth, Brian followed Alex through the doors and down the corridor.  Signing in at the desk, Brian followed Alex towards Justin’s room; a few steps from the door, however, Brian reached out and grasped Alex’s arm.  When the man looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, Brian sucked his lips into his mouth and then shook his head.

He couldn’t articulate the need he had; the need to look at Justin with his own eyes, rather than through the eyes of someone who was good with a camera.  The driving need to see if there was any emotion on the boy’s face when he saw him.  He’d take anything at that point: anger, annoyance… anything but the blank look that he had seen on Justin’s face for so long when he had looked at him.

Stepping past the man, Brian completed the journey on his own.  Looking into the room, he shivered when he saw Justin leaning against the window ledge with his head resting against the glass pane; it was reminiscent of the photograph that Renee had taken without Justin’s knowledge, and Brian took a steadying breath before he raised his hand and gently rapped his knuckles against the door frame.  Justin looked over his shoulder at the noise, and something in Brian relaxed when he saw the varying emotions that crossed Justin’s face.

Surprise was the one that stood out the most, but he also saw embarrassment and a hint of trepidation.  It was the final emotion that had him stepping through the door as Justin turned to face him; his mask was gone, and color delicately pinked his cheeks as Justin tilted his head slightly as Brian took slow, measured steps towards him.  Before Justin could query why Brian was even there, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and withdrew the photographs; licking his lips, Brian hesitantly held his hand out, offering the images to Justin.

Justin only had to look down at what Brian offered him before he recoiled, and the delicate color drained from his face.  His hand shook when he reached out for them, and Brian swallowed hard as Justin took them from him and quickly flipped through the glossy images.  When Justin eventually looked back up, Brian shook his head and stepped closer to the blond.  Justin had to tilt his chin up slightly to look at him and Brian reached out and brushed the long strands of blond hair away from Justin’s cheek, and tucked it behind his ear. 

He felt his mouth twist into a semblance of a crooked smile when Justin’s eyes widened as Brian stroked his thumb across Justin’s cheek, and Brian dropped his hand as he looked away from him and leaned against the window ledge to look out the window.  He saw Justin walk towards the bed in the window’s reflection and carefully set the photographs on the bedside table.  Watching him, Brian’s whole body softened as he watched Justin visibly straighten his shoulders, and the word ‘brat’ affectionately crossed his mind. 

But when Justin slowly made his way back to his side, Brian looked at him out of the corner of his eye.  Justin rested his shoulder against the frame of the window as he looked out across the busy parking lot.  He seemed content to let the silence between them linger, and Brian hesitantly reached out and grasped Justin’s hand with his own; the squeeze that Justin gave his fingers said more than words could have ever conveyed.

_Thank you.  Why are you here?_

Brian squeezed back, but instead of using that gesture to convey how he felt, he turned his head slightly and glanced at him as Justin slowly withdrew his hand from Brian’s.  There were hundreds of things that he wanted to say; how sorry he was.  How much he missed him; that he loved him and wanted him to come back to the loft and turn it back into the home that it had been when Justin’s laughter had echoed through the vast space.  He wanted Justin to bring his belongings home, and to throw that ratty fucking bag away and never leave him again.

He wanted to apologize for letting Michael cause so much damage between them, and to promise that he’d never allow Michael to treat Justin like that again. He wanted to apologize for the tricks he had bought back to the loft and for the whispers that Justin had heard every day.   For the tears he had caused Justin to shed, both in his presence and under the cover of darkness; for being so fucked up himself that he had tested Justin’s loyalty to him time and time again, when Justin had more than proven himself.  

He wanted to apologize for discouraging Justin from discussing what Chris Hobbs had done; because Michael was more than wrong.  It hadn’t just happened to Brian – Justin was the one who couldn’t remember, and Brian was the one who couldn’t forget.  If they had spoken about Prom - cried and raged about it together - then maybe they wouldn’t be in the position they were in now.  He wanted to say all of this and more; but standing beside his former lover and watching the hustle-bustle of the outside world, Brian chose a simpler method of conveying everything he wanted to say.   

“How’s the food?”

When a grimace of distaste crossed Justin’s face, Brian simply looked back out of the window and smiled slightly.

“I’ll bring you a lemon bar next time.”

He felt more than saw Justin turn his head, and when he glanced back down at the blond, he found that Justin had raised his eyebrows.

“Next time?”

It was a ghost of a sound, and Brian hummed softly under his breath as he nodded.

“Hmm… next time.”

Justin looked back out of the window, but when he lowered his chin, Brian glanced back down at his bowed head as Justin spoke softly.

“Gus likes lemon bars, too.”

He saw the brief flash of blue eyes as Justin peeked up at him, and Brian swallowed convulsively when he saw the delicate pink color stain Justin’s cheeks again.  Brian nodded, and reached out to take Justin’s hand in his own for a second time.

“Yeah… he does.”

Brian let the silence fall between them again when Justin nodded; he allowed Brian to hang onto his hand this time, and Brian traced the callouses on Justin’s fingers from where he always gripped his pencil too tightly.  When there was a soft knock on the door, Brian closed his eyes for a minute as a nurse stepped into the room and gently reminded Justin that he had an appointment with his nutritionist, and that it was time for his weigh-in.

Justin merely nodded, and when he turned to walk away, he was forced to pause when Brian tightened his grip on his hand.  The two men locked eyes, and Brian knew that although he could pull Justin towards him, he had to start showing him that he was willing to follow, too.  Closing the gap between them, Brian lowered his head and pressed his mouth to Justin’s forehead.  He heard the hitch in Justin’s breathing at the innocent touch of his lips and turned his head slightly to rest his cheek against the softness of those silky, blond strands.

He stepped back without comment when he felt Justin’s hand press against his chest; he knew a warning when he felt one and was grateful that Justin had let him indulge in the warmth of his body for the mere seconds they had been standing close together.  Justin simply stared up at him for a moment before he turned and left the room.  Brian didn’t know whether to smile or frown when Justin didn’t look back; instead he settled for calling Justin a brat again in his head.

Heading out to the jeep, Brian settled into the driver’s seat and glanced down at the manila folder on the passenger seat of the jeep.  Opening the folder briefly, Brian glanced down at the contents before he slowly closed it against the image of Justin’s blank face.  Rolling his lips into his mouth, Brian started the jeep and backed out of the space he had been parked in.  He had handed the originals over to Justin, but the copies he had made of them would serve as a reminder that all actions had consequences.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Brian sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the image of Justin looking back at him from within tangled sheets.  Framed in matte black, the photograph sat on the bedside table in such a way that he was able to look at it whether he was sitting up or lying down.  He would see it every time he opened his eyes in the morning, and it would be the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes at night.  His sexy boy, tousled and wanting – the stuff dreams were made of.

The remaining image were scattered across Brian’s bed; he had stared down at the image of Justin in the hospital for so long that every detail of it was burned into his brain.  No matter what Alex said, Brian knew that the blame for that image rested on his shoulders.  Michael had been the cause for Justin trying to kill himself, but Brian had allowed the man to get away with that type of shit long before Justin had made his choice.

It had been one thing to think about the choice that Justin had made – to think about it, and to talk about it with Alex and the family.  But the image removed all semblance of deniability.  It became real in a way that it hadn’t been before.  So still within the image, the spark that had marked Justin as human was gone – Brian finally understood what Alex had meant when he had called Justin the ‘walking dead.’  Wiping absently at his face, Brian looked at the moisture on his fingertips for a long time.

How many times had Justin cried that Brian didn’t know about?  How many times had he cut the boy to the quick, adding to the wound that festered deep inside him?  How many times would he have to apologize before Justin believed him?  He had told Justin time and time again that words meant nothing; that they were only meaningless noise that people made.  Actions were all you could believe.  That phrase had come back to bite him in the ass; his actions had shown Justin that the young man meant nothing to him - that to Brian, he was just a convenient piece of ass.

Those actions had set Justin on this twisted path; Brian’s inability to tell Justin how he felt, and his deep-rooted fear that Justin would leave him, meant that Justin had read his actions and drawn his own conclusions.  Reaching out to trace his fingers over the blankness of Justin’s face, Brian swore to himself that he would never allow Justin to look like this again.  He doubted that he would ever be able to give Justin the words that he needed, but he would damn well make sure that his actions would show Justin everything that he was unable to say.


	21. Chapter 21

21.

The slap of skin on skin was deafeningly loud, punctuated only by the increasingly vocal cries that were being desperately muffled.  Ethan had his hand clamped over his mouth; his fingertips dug white indentations into his skin as he increased the pace of his hand on his cock.  With his legs looped around Sam’s thighs, he went momentarily blind as his back arched in response to Sam swiveling his hips mid-thrust; Sam moaned low in his throat as Ethan’s muscles clenched around his cock, right before he spilled all over his heaving chest and stomach.  Sam grunted and thrust forward hard as his orgasm stole the last vestige of control he had over his own body.  

Sam collapsed forward gracelessly; he felt Ethan wind his arms around his back as his breath gushed down over his lover’s skin, and he sighed heavily as he nuzzled his nose into Ethan’s neck.  For a while, the only noise in the apartment was the sound of the traffic passing on the street below, and the thundering of their hearts.  But then Sam groaned, and after pressing his lips firmly to the skin below his mouth, he reached between them to hold the condom in place as he carefully withdrew from Ethan’s body.  Ethan made a soft sound of disappointment, but he smiled drowsily up at his lover as Sam ran his hand down the pale skin that was stretched across Ethan’s ribs before rising to his feet. 

His bare feet made no sound as he crossed to the bathroom.  Skirting the candles and wine glasses from the remnants of their dinner, Sam entered the small room to throw the condom in the garbage can before turning the tap on.  He let the water heat up, scratching his stomach before rinsing a hand towel under the steady stream of water.  Cleaning himself up haphazardly, he rinsed the cloth out again before returning to the bed and performing the same task more thoroughly for his lover.

A fond smile crossed his face as he wiped the cloth over Ethan’s chest and stomach; his boyfriend was half asleep, and his nose wrinkled slightly as Sam reached between his splayed thighs and gently wiped away streaks of lube and sweat.  Tugging the sheets up over Ethan’s body, that affectionate smile turned into a grin when Ethan promptly rolled onto his side and curled up into a ball.  While his lover was full of controlled energy most of the time, he always reacted like this after sex – he would curl up in a ball and go to sleep while he recharged, and God help you if you disturbed his power nap; he could pout for hours.

Dropping the cloth on the ground beside their bed, Sam tugged on a pair of loose sweat pants and headed for the small kitchenette to make himself a cup of tea.  While sex almost always knocked Ethan out, it left Sam with residual energy that he would often pour into his music.  Taking his drink over to the couch that Justin had helped Ethan bring home, he sat down and lifted his guitar onto his lap; not wanting to compose or practice, he quietly went through the opening riffs of old rock songs as the notes flowed through his mind like water.

He was lost in the sounds of Hendrix when someone quietly knocked on the door; Sam jerked in surprise, and Ethan grunted as he shifted within his nest of sheets.  Setting his guitar aside, Sam padded across the room and unlocked the door; later, he would think to himself that he should have been surprised.  But he wasn’t; somewhere deep inside himself, he had been waiting for this particular visit.  Stepping back, he silently gestured for Brian to enter the apartment.  Brian’s eyes swept over Sam’s body; he took in the lack of shirt and the tattoos that covered most of Sam’s torso before he brushed past him.  Sam closed the door and slid the chain back into place without comment; there hadn’t been any interest in Brian’s steady gaze – only a look that told the young man that Brian was floundering. 

“Do you want some coffee?  Tea?”

Brian shook his head silently as Sam walked across the room and sat down on the bed; shaking Ethan’s shoulder gently, Sam waited until those sleepy brown eyes opened, and as Ethan squinted up at him, Sam lowered his head and brushed a kiss across the pout that was forming on Ethan’s mouth.

“We have a visitor; I’ll make you some coffee.”

The drowsy look in Ethan’s eyes was gone within seconds, and he nodded as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position.  The sheets pooled around his hips, and he pushed his hands through the tousled mess of his hair as he yawned.  Sam laughed softly as Ethan rubbed his eyes, and he leaned down to grab Ethan’s pants.  He tossed the balled-up material to his boyfriend, and then glanced back at Brian.  The man was staring at the floor; at the burned down candles, empty wine glasses, and the board that held leftover grapes, cheese, and crackers.      

Ethan stood up as Brian continued to stare at the floor; unashamed of his nudity, he pulled his pants on and then held his hand out for the cup of coffee that Sam had made him.  He watched Brian silently, and when the man finally dragged his eyes away from the floor, Ethan gestured to the couch.  Brian eyed the furniture for a moment before he crossed over to it and gingerly sat down.  He was unable to hide the wince on his face, however, once he was seated – the couch was angled in such a way that Brian was able to not only see the bed that Ethan had just crawled out of, but the bathroom as well.

“You have picnics on the floor?” Brian finally asked, and Ethan locked eyes with Sam momentarily before he looked back at Brian.

“Yeah, we do.  We’ve had them with Justin before; it’s a great way to enjoy each other’s company when you don’t have a kitchen table, and you don’t want to get crumbs in the bed.  Brian…why are you here?”

There was open curiosity in Ethan’s voice as he sat down beside Brian, and Brian swallowed hard as he dragged his eyes away from the bathroom and looked back at Ethan.

“I don’t know.”

Ethan sighed at the bewilderment in Brian’s voice, and he gestured to the room at large.

“Yeah, you do.  You want to know how it happened, don’t you?  How you ended up in this position, where Justin has shut you out, and you still have no idea where Sam and I came from.”

When Brian finally nodded, Ethan shifted his weight on the couch. 

“I should tell you to fuck off,” he asked quietly.  “To mind your own business; I mean, where the fuck _were_ you, Brian?  But I can’t.  Because I saw the way you looked at Justin the night of the Rage launch – I saw the look on your face.  I saw how badly we hurt you.”

Ethan looked down at his hands and shook his head.

“I met Justin at the violin recital, as you know.  I was teasing him, telling him that he had distracted me.  He didn’t take it very well; I found out later that he always got hit on by guys trying to get into bed with the both of you.  He didn’t want to deal with yet another guy wanting in your pants, so he pulled back.  I saw him around school after that, and I made a point of stopping to say hi; one afternoon, he finally agreed to have coffee with me.  Sam met up with us, and I introduced him to Justin; that was when Justin finally relaxed around me.”

Looking over at Sam, Ethan smiled, before that smile faded and he turned back towards the other man.

“I won’t lie to you, Brian; I was attracted to Justin from Day One.  He was stunning, and he appealed to me on so many levels.  The more time we spent together, the more that attraction grew.  I was honest with Sam; I  told him how I was feeling, and he laughed and said he was glad he wasn’t the only one who wanted to have sex with Justin.  We both knew Justin was interested, but he seemed hesitant to make a move.  I thought that he was monogamous with his boyfriend, but Justin snorted when I asked him; he said gays didn’t get to ask for monogamy.

“But even with the attraction between us, there was a friendship growing with him that was more important to me… to us… than just having sex with him.  He understood the passion that Sam and I both have towards music, because he feels the same way about his art.  I can’t tell you how many times we met up and discussed how hard it was to learn when your talent outshone the people who taught the class you were taking.  How annoying it was to hear the students around you prattle on about ‘suffering for their art’ while Mommy and Daddy gave them a weekly allowance that we could only dream about – they wouldn’t know real suffering if it offered to suck their dick.

“The more time we spent together at school, the closer we all grew.  We’d meet up in the mornings and after school, and we’d talk about the projects we were doing, and ideas that we wanted to explore.  We became a support network for each other in a way – I can remember one instance where Justin’s professor was pushing him to further himself, and he was so angry because he couldn’t get his hand to work the way it needed to for the fine details.  He queened out in a big way, and it took both Sam and me to talk him down – to stop him from telling the professor to jam her mediocre talent up her ass.     

“I had never seen Justin go off like that before - like most people, I couldn’t see beyond that fucking smile; then one day, I did.  He was supposed to meet up with us for lunch, but he didn’t show.  That wasn’t typical for him, so I went looking for him.  I found him hiding in the library; he was huddled in on himself, and it was such a contradiction to see him like that when I was so used to his laughter, that I sat down with him and asked him what was wrong.”

Ethan shook his head and looked down at his hands for a moment before he looked back up at Brian with haunted eyes.

“He full blown gaped at me – like he couldn’t believe that I was asking him if he was okay.  Then he said there was nothing wrong; he wasn’t weak.  He wasn’t a sissy boy.  And the entire time he denied that anything was wrong, he was unaware of the fact that he was crying.  His hand was curled into a claw, and when I reached for his hand, he flinched and backed himself into a corner.  It was like approaching a wounded animal – I didn’t know how he was going to react when I touched him.  It took me several minutes to coax him into letting me help him, but in the end, he just caved in on himself; I massaged the cramp away, and he sat there and stared beyond me the entire time I was touching him.

“It was like I’d been blind, but could now see; Justin’s mask was gone, and I was so fucking rattled at what I could see behind the mirage he projected to the world.  I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen how much he had been hiding before this; it was like the cramp in his hand had stolen his ability to conceal just how much he was hurting.  It scared the shit out of me… I don’t know how he managed to drag himself out of bed every day, let alone function the way he did before it all blew up in his face. 

“We sat in that aisle in the library for ages before he seemed to come back to himself, and when he saw that I was with him still, he couldn’t look at me.  I asked him what had happened to him to cause his hand to curl in on itself the way it had, and for a minute it was like he didn’t understand what I was asking him and why.  But when I repeated the question, the floodgate opened, and it all came pouring out.  Chris Hobbs.  Prom.  The fact that he had irreversible brain damage.  The fact that he had these horrible nightmares every night, and that he was too scared to go to sleep in case he woke up screaming.”

Shifting his weight on the couch, Ethan took the ashtray when Sam handed it to him and passed it over to Brian without comment.  Brian’s hand shook as he lit a cigarette, and he exhaled slowly as Ethan continued to watch him steadily.  Ethan maintained his silence until Brian gestured for him to carry on.

“I asked him if he had received any therapy for the bashing, and he said that he hadn’t, because he wasn’t some pathetic faggot who needed a band-aid solution to what had happened to him.  He was _fine_.  When I asked him what you thought about his nightmares, he admitted that he had hidden them from you.  He said that you were suffering worse than he was, because although he couldn’t remember the Prom, you _did_ ; you had witnessed what had been done to him, and he owed you enough for taking him in without adding to the grief he had already caused you.

“He didn’t want to speak to anyone about it – he said he was fine, that he was over it… that he had to let it go and move on.  I told him that was bullshit – you didn’t get over something like that by ignoring it.  I wouldn’t let up on him over the next few days; I made him go and see a therapist at school - I guilted him into it - I said that it hurt me to see him like that.  He got flustered when I said that; he said that he didn’t like hurting the people in his life, but that was all he ever seemed to do. 

“I told him that even if it came out that he was fine, that there was nothing wrong, he needed to _know it_ himself.   So, he spoke to a therapist at school; she immediately recommended that Justin get some counseling - she said that he needed help to overcome what had been done to him, that it wasn’t a weakness to admit that he was struggling in _all_ aspects of his life.  When Justin came out of that meeting, it was like someone had cut his strings – his belief that he was succeeding in hiding how he truly felt was gone, and so was his ability to keep a wall around him.”

Ethan rose to his feet as he shook his head; crossing to the kitchenette, he placed his cup in the tiny sink before he turned to the fridge and pulled out three beers.  Passing one to Sam, he returned to the couch and offered one to Brian.  The man’s face was pale, and he kept swallowing convulsively as Ethan opened his own and took a mouthful.  Brian lowered his eyes, and as Ethan stared at him, he saw Brian run his palm over the scratchy material of the couch as his eyes flicked back towards the empty wine glasses.  Ethan sighed, and gestured to the empty glasses.

“I know about the picnic he prepared for you at the loft,” he said finally, and when Brian’s eyes snapped towards him, the corner of Ethan’s mouth lifted slightly.

“I… was… was it meant to be a…” Brian coughed as he cleared his throat, and if the moment wasn’t so fraught with tension, Ethan would have laughed.  “…a romantic picnic…?” Brian eventually asked, and Ethan slowly shook his head as Brian looked at him.

“No…it was so Justin could tell you the truth; he was drowning, and he needed help,” he said finally, and Brian paled as he rolled his lips into his mouth.

“Justin now knew that he was in trouble; that he needed some sort of support,” Ethan said gently.  “He said that seeing the therapist at school had forced him to understand that he wasn’t over the bashing; that he had hidden it from you because he didn’t want to hurt you and remind you of what you had seen.  I told him to go home to you, Brian - to be _honest_ with you.  I told him to prepare a spread of all of your favorite foods.  To buy a really nice bottle of wine; it would make what he had to say go down easier.  I told him that when you got home, to sit down with you and explain what the therapist had told him.”

Ethan shook his head as he looked down at his hands.

“Justin refused; he said you didn’t do nights in, let alone picnics on the floor.  He said you’d probably laugh your ass off if he even suggested it.  I told him he was wrong - that if he admitted to you that he needed help, you would stay in for the night and listen to what he had to say.  That you would support him, and not make him feel like he was weak because he needed therapy.  He said I didn’t know you; that you didn’t _do_ romance, and that that was how you would perceive the picnic.  I told him that this wasn’t about romance – it was about stripping away the walls he hid behind and showing you how he was feeling. 

“He didn’t believe me, but I eventually wore him down.  I took him to this little deli near your loft, and he spent the last of his money on food and wine.  I went to the loft with him and helped him set it up on the floor; he snorted when I set the candles out and told me that I needed to seriously rethink what romance was and wasn’t – because in his book, candlelit dinners equaled romance.  He still thanked me, though, for helping him; he said he hoped I was right, and that he’d see me the following day.  We parted company, and when I next saw Justin, I asked him how it went.”

Ethan smiled wryly as he tilted his beer towards Brian mockingly.

“We both know how _that_ picnic turned out, don’t we?” he said, and Brian lowered his eyes.

“Ethan…”

There was a warning in Sam’s voice, and Ethan hissed out his displeasure when he looked towards his boyfriend.  But when he looked back at Brian, he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.  “That was uncalled for.  You didn’t know; no one did.  Justin had gotten too good at hiding how he felt.  When I saw him the following day at school, I asked him how it had gone – he told me that he had wasted his last hundred bucks and that he should have known better.  He wouldn’t say much after that, but I felt so fucking guilty; I told him to come over whenever he wanted – I’d play him a song, and we’d get drunk on cheap wine.  So, he did… he came over that night.  He and Sam were sitting right where you are now; drinking wine and listening to me play the violin.”

Ethan smiled thinly as Brian closed his eyes; Brian knew precisely where Ethan was leading him, and the violinist didn’t disappoint when he shrugged.

“That was the night that we had sex; Justin fucked Sam.  And I fucked Justin.”

Ethan let that statement hang in the air; he knew that Brian wasn’t happy about it – knew that the adman was clenching his hands into fists so that he wouldn’t lash out before his need to know what had happened had been fulfilled.  But as Ethan opened his mouth, Sam made a slashing motion with his hand.  

“Babe; take a chill pill.  This is all in the past for us.  We’ve had time to come to terms with this; Brian’s had what… weeks?  We’ve had _five_ _months_ , Ethan, and unlimited access to Justin… be fair, okay?”

Ethan’s lips settled into an annoyed frown; Sam knew how upset Ethan was, and he crossed to the couch and pulled his boyfriend to his feet.  Cupping Ethan’s face in his hands, Sam pressed a light kiss to his unhappy lover’s mouth before he gestured to the kitchenette.

“Grab us another beer, okay?  Go on.”

Rubbing his hand over Ethan’s stomach, Sam gently pushed him towards the small area, and then took Ethan’s place on the couch.

“You all right?” he asked as he glanced at Brian, who shot him a dirty look.

Sam merely shrugged, and when Brian finally shook his head, Sam hummed softly under his breath.

“How’d the art show go today?” he asked quietly, and when Brian’s eyes snapped to his, Sam’s mouth curved into a nasty little smirk.

“Renee was a persistent little bitch, who didn’t understand that Justin being gay meant she wasn’t getting anywhere near him.  Not unless she grew a cock.  She’d apparently been taking photos of him all year; even before she asked him to pose for her.  I’d warned her off a half a dozen times, but then a girlfriend of mine told me that Justin was the focus of her exhibition.”

“There was one of him in the hospital,” Brian said hoarsely, and Sam grimaced.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked in disbelief, and when Brian shook his head, Sam pursed his lips.

“I made her take them down,” Brian said finally, and Sam smiled briefly as Ethan crossed the room and pressed a bottle into Sam’s hand.  When Ethan settled himself back on the bed, Sam gestured towards Brian with his beer.

“Good; I hope the nasty bitch remembers how it feels to have her choices taken away.  Now, where were we?... Ahh…as tipsy as Justin was that night, he made sure that we understood that he didn’t kiss anyone but _you_ on the mouth when he was tricking – it was important that we respected that.  When we said that we did, he relaxed; it was fun - we laughed, and we fucked, and we laughed some more before he went home.  Ethan went to Harrisburg for a recital the next morning; Justin and I met up for lunch, and we had a giggle over the fact that we were more comfortable around each other now that we’d fucked than we had been previously.  The tension that had always been there was now gone. 

“Justin explained the rules of your relationship.  He said he had trouble following them, that he had kissed a virgin after he’d fucked him one night, but as I said to him, some men can fuck an anonymous ass with no problem.  Other men are more comfortable being friendly with their tricks.  He said he wouldn’t know… he felt like he had betrayed you somehow.  He wouldn’t explain it; he changed the subject, instead, by showing me the posters that he had been made for Rage.  I helped him put them up at PIFA.  Ethan came home the following day, and when he saw the posters that were up all over school, he went looking for Justin; he had explained weeks ago all about the comic book, and we were both so fucking proud of him.

“Justin came over that night, and he was practically vibrating; that energy was how we ended up in bed together again.  In his eyes, that was the night he broke another one of your rules.  He fucked Ethan, and I fucked him.  But as I said to him, it didn’t matter.  It wasn’t like he had fucked me, and Ethan had fucked him again.  The players were the same, but the roles were different.  He hadn’t kissed either one of us; oh, we kissed each other hello and goodbye all the time, but it was never on the mouth.  That was when Ethan said he _had_ kissed Justin on the mouth before; he’d kissed him that day when he had met up with Justin about the posters.

“I asked him how he had kissed Justin and Ethan started laughing as he teased Justin; he crawled into Justin’s lap to demonstrate.  He peppered Justin’s face with little kisses.  And between those kisses, he had told Justin how brilliant he was.  How smart he was.  How the world was his stinky little oyster.  And how fucking proud of him we both were.  Then he kissed Justin on the lips – one of those kisses where you go ‘mmwah’ – where it’s more noise than tongue.  Justin was laughing; he called Ethan a cheeky fucker, and then he got dressed.  Before he left, he asked us if we understood that we’d never end up in bed together again.  We reassured him that we understood the rules he had with you, and that it was just sex.  He laughed; he told us that it had been one of the hottest hookups he’d ever been involved in, and then he left.”

Sam fell silent when Brian dropped his eyes down to his hands; the man had paled slightly at the end of Sam’s dialogue, and he was biting his lip hard enough to leave an indentation.  Sam cleared his throat, and when Brian eventually looked back up, the dread on his face was as clear as day.

“Justin ended up back here a couple of hours later; it was like he’d climbed into his clothes without getting dry first - his hair was wet, and his clothes were damp.  He kept apologizing for waking us up.  We asked him what was wrong, but he refused to tell us.  All he’d say was that he’d hurt you, that he’d broken the rules; he was so fucking rattled that he couldn’t calm down.  Every time one of us went to touch him, he’d flinch and move away.  We eventually got him to lie down on the couch, and when we got up the next morning, he was gone.  He avoided us for most of the day; I eventually cornered him at school, and he said that you guys had had a fight the night before.

“I asked him what it had been over, but he said he didn’t know.  All he knew was that you knew about the three of us somehow; you knew, and you were angry.  I told him to go home to you and explain the fact that it was just tricking.  His way of tricking might differ from yours, but it was still just sex.  I didn’t see Justin again until the following night; Ethan and I agreed that we should go to the Rage launch to support him, and to make sure that he was okay.  I dropped Ethan off, and I went to park the car.  And as I walked into Babylon, Justin and Ethan were walking out.”

Brian pushed up off the couch; threading his hands through his hair, he walked across to the window and looked outside.  Sam looked over at Ethan, who sighed as he shifted his weight.

“Why’d you kiss him?”

It was barely a whisper, but Ethan’s eyebrows rose when the gravelly sound reached his ears.

“When I met up with Justin inside, he was visibly upset,” Ethan said finally.  “I asked him what was wrong, and he said that you’d sent him a message; it was a message that he couldn’t ignore.  I asked him what he meant, and he said that he’d found you fucking Rage.  Not in the backroom; but in full view of everyone at Babylon.  He said it was bad enough when you tricked in front of him, but to fuck Rage?  The character that he had developed?  He said that he couldn’t do it anymore; he couldn’t stand the humiliation of being your public whipping boy.

“Justin said that he wished he could tell you how much it hurt him whenever you showed him how he would always be your second choice…your backup fuck.  And while he was saying this, while he was fighting back tears in front of all the people who had seen you fuck Rage, you came up the stairs; you hadn’t seen me yet, but I saw you. The one thing Justin had insisted on when we fucked was no kissing; I looked at you, and I looked at Justin, and I saw how much you had hurt him at that moment.  He couldn’t hide it.  You had no problem humiliating him; no problem fucking other guys in front of him.  I wanted to publicly humiliate you the same way you had humiliated him; only I didn’t need to fuck Rage to do that - I only had to kiss him.  So, I did.” 

Ethan shook his head as his mouth twisted into a bitter smile.

“Justin tried to pull back from me; I didn’t let him.  And when I finally did, and I looked towards you?  I saw the look on your face; seeing me kiss Justin had more than humiliated you.  You _knew_ you’d lost him in that moment; you were unable to hide how much it had hurt you to see him kiss me.  And I was glad; you don’t fuck with my friends.  But then Justin looked towards you, and those great Kinney walls he had once told me about were thrown back up; he didn’t see the hurt, Brian.  All he saw was your indifference.  That’s why he left with me; that’s why he came back here.  That’s why he sat on that couch and tried to figure out what he was going to do, while trying to hide the fact that his heart was breaking.”

Brian pulled another cigarette out; his hands continued to shake as he lit it, and Ethan swallowed hard.  It had been so easy to paint Brian as the bad guy in this scenario.  So easy to blame him for everything.  But watching those hazel eyes flit around the room as he inhaled on his cigarette, Ethan knew that nothing was easy about this man; nothing was straightforward about his relationship with Justin, or the way they felt about each other.  Rising to his feet, Ethan slowly crossed the room and put his hand on Brian’s arm.

“Do you want to hear the rest?” he asked quietly. 

For a moment, Ethan didn’t think Brian was going to acknowledge him; but then he swallowed, and he nodded once.  Grasping Brian’s wrist, Ethan led him back to the couch and sat down.  Turning his body slightly, Ethan unexpectedly felt a sympathetic urge as he reached to clutch Brian’s hand under his.

“Justin was gone in the morning; he had a shift at the diner.  He met up with Sam at PIFA after lunch, though - Sam told me later that he had found Justin sitting in the courtyard; his bag was at his feet, and he was staring out into space.  Sam asked him if he was all right, and Justin lost his shit.  He said that he had hoped that maybe you’d talk to him at the diner, that perhaps you could still sort things out.  But you all ignored him; he said that the family had taken your side and cut him dead, so, he’d gone to the loft to pack his stuff before you came home from work and threw him out again. 

“He said he didn’t know what to do; he’d lost everything, and he had no idea why.  He didn’t have anyone to turn to; he didn’t have anywhere to go.  Sam told him that he had us; he was coming home with us, and he could stay for as long as he wanted.  Justin stayed here for the next few days; he worked, and he went to school, and he sat on the couch and smoked all night.  He didn’t sleep.  He didn’t eat.  He shut down.  Nothing we said or did made a difference.”

Glancing at the bathroom, Brian finally looked back at Ethan with his lips sucked into his mouth.  Ethan managed a small smile, but then he nodded as he exhaled shakily. 

“I came home between classes, because I hadn’t seen Justin at school.  He never showed up for his mid-morning class.  When I got here, I saw his bag on the couch.  The bathroom door was shut, so I called out to him; I asked him if he wanted a coffee or a sandwich.  He never answered me.  I knocked on the bathroom door; when I pushed it open, the curtain was partially closed around the tub.  I saw the medicine bottle on the sink; Justin had had a bad headache for the last couple of days, and I didn’t think anything of it.”

Dropping his eyes, Ethan finally let go of Brian’s hand, only to twist his own in his lap as his voice dropped.  His eyes slowly glazed over as he fell back into his memories; he was blind to Sam crossing the room to kneel at his feet.  Blind to the tears that were slowly welling up in his eyes.  And blind to the pain that so clearly etched itself on Brian’s bloodless face with every word that left Ethan’s mouth.

“I didn’t see the bottle of Beam until I kicked it; it was hidden because of the shower curtain.  It was then that I saw Justin’s arm hanging over the edge of the bath.  I pulled the shower curtain back, and for a minute, I just thought he’d finally fallen asleep.  He looked so peaceful… but then I reached down, and I shook him.  He…uh… I felt the water and it was cold, so I started calling his name; yelling at him to wake up.  He didn’t… I slapped his face, and when he didn’t react at all, I reached for the pill bottle.  It was then that I realized they were sleeping pills. 

“I shook him again, and then I dragged him up and out of the bath.  I forced his mouth open, and I shoved my fingers down his throat as far as I could.  He vomited all over me - all over himself - and all I could smell was the Beam.  There were partially dissolved pills in his vomit, and when I realized that there were way more than there should be, I called 9-1-1.  The lady on the other end of the phone told me to stay with him; she told me to keep her on speaker phone, and to put Justin in the recovery position.  To keep my fingers on his pulse, and my other hand on his chest.

“I did as she said, and she kept talking to me; asking me if he was breathing okay, telling me to keep calling his name.  She asked me if the door was unlocked, and I said no.  She told me to go and unlock the door, and to leave it ajar for the paramedics.  I did as she told me, and when I came back, she said to put my hands back on Justin’s chest and pulse.  When I did, he had stopped breathing.  I freaked out, but she was so fucking calm.  She told me to roll him onto his back; she said that I would have to perform CPR on him until help arrived.

“She walked me though each step; how to pinch his nose shut, and how to blow a recovery breath. What I had to listen and look for.  She kept telling me what a great job I was doing, that the paramedics would be there soon.  To keep checking his pulse between breaths, so that if his heart stopped, I could change up the compressions.  I kept blowing air into his mouth; all I could hear was his voice telling me that he didn’t kiss anyone but you on the lips, and here I was, with my mouth on his… I remember thinking that he was going to be so pissed about that when he woke up.

“The paramedics arrived, and they took over the CPR.  I thanked the lady on the phone… I don’t even remember her name… and followed the paramedics down to the ambulance.  They loaded Justin into it and told me to climb in front, so they could keep working on him.  I called Sam… all I wanted was for Sam to tell me to wake up, that this was just a bad dream…. He said he’d meet me at the hospital, and to keep my shit together.  When the ambulance got to the hospital, Justin was taken straight through to the emergency department.  I was grilled by the medical staff about how I had found him, and what he had taken.

“I told them about the sleeping tablets, and the bottle of Beam he had been drinking.  Then they asked me what had been going on; so, I told them: his conversation with the therapist at school, the breakup of your relationship, and the loss of his job, his home, and his friends.  And the entire time I was talking to them, I could see what they were doing to him.  I could see them forcing the tubes down his throat… the doctor I was talking to told me to call Justin’s parents, so I called Jennifer, and then Daphne.  By the time Jennifer and Daphne arrived, Justin had already been sedated and they were getting ready to move him to the psychiatric unit. 

“They had restrained his wrists to the rails on the bed; I asked why, and the nurse in the room said they treated all possible suicide attempts this way.  I couldn’t believe it… all I could think was, how did this fucking happen?  How did I miss how badly he was handling everything in his life?  I mean, he could barely fucking function… it was my fault… if I hadn’t kissed him… I just stood there and cried after the nurse left the room…all I could think was, don’t you fucking die on me…”

Brian moaned low in his throat; the sound was deafeningly loud, and it snapped Ethan out of his memories and into the present.  And as he stared at Brian, at the pain that ravaged the other man’s features, the tears in his eyes spilled over.  

“I am so sorry for my part in this, Brian,” he managed to say as Sam closed his hands over Ethan’s knees.  “I never thought he’d do something like this; I never thought he’d sink as low as he did.  If I hadn’t kissed him, he might have gone home with you.  If I hadn’t…”

Brian slowly turned to look at the young man sitting beside him when Ethan’s breathing hitched painfully as he sucked in a ragged breath; he recognized debilitating guilt when he saw it, and he reached out without thought.  Wrapping his hand around the back of Ethan’s neck, he pulled the young man closer to him and into a rough embrace.  As he leaned his cheek against Ethan’s head, he felt a momentary hesitation before Ethan wrapped his arms around Brian’s waist and clung to him.

Brian forced himself to keep breathing; to not close his eyes and pretend that he hadn’t just heard how bad it had been.  Instead, he focused on how grateful he was that Ethan had come home early that day; focused on the fact that these two young men had tried helping Justin, while he had been blind to what had been going on.   And as his shirt grew wet from the silent tears that Ethan was shedding, he forced his fractured mind back together and managed to speak.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

The memory of Justin telling him the same thing in the loft after the bashing flittered through his mind, and Brian shuddered.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated when Ethan shook his head.  “Not yours…not even mine, even though I was the one who threw Justin off the cliff.  The blame rests solely with Chris fucking Hobbs.”

Pulling back, Brian sniffed as Ethan looked up at him, and Brian managed to smile slightly.

“Chris Hobbs did this to Justin, Ethan.  A… kiss… didn’t put those pills in Justin’s hand.  Me fucking Rage… didn’t make him swallow them.  Chris Hobbs did this; Justin tried telling me that it wasn’t my fault, and I still blamed myself.  We all had a hand in making Justin hide from himself; we have to live with that.  But we didn’t cause the depression… I should have known, though,” Brian said hoarsely, and Ethan shook his head as he reached up and wiped away the tears that were slowly rolling down Brian’s face.

“Maybe.  Maybe you should have seen behind Justin’s walls; maybe you should have known that he was struggling.  There are thousands of maybes in this scenario, Brian, but when you are suffering from PTSD yourself, how can you see what’s right in front of you when you are blinded by your own pain?”

Brian’s eyes widened, and even as he shook his head in denial, Ethan was huffing out a disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, my God, Brian….you’ve never spoken about the bashing either, have you?  Justin said it… he said you were hurting… his pain wasn’t the only one that was well hidden, was it?  But where Justin withdrew into himself, you started tricking in front of him… drinking and taking drugs.”

Brian shook his head, but Ethan reached out to grab his shoulder and squeezed it firmly.

“Brian… how can you deal with someone who changes so drastically in such a short amount of time, when you don’t even realize that you are suffering yourself?  Have you spoken to anyone at _all_ about the bashing?”

When Brian shook his head again, Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Your friends?  They suck!” Ethan spat, as he shoved his hands through his hair.  “I suggest you get some new ones; maybe ones who will call you out on your shit, and not let you ignore something as monumental as seeing your lover getting his fucking head caved in!”

For a half a minute, Brian considered everything that Ethan had said; but then he sighed heavily and pushed the words out over the guilt and shame that coated his mouth.

“When I found out about Justin, I tried my hardest not to make any excuses… I won’t start now, no matter how tempting it is.  I treated Justin like shit.  I denied having any kind of feelings for him; both publicly and privately.  I mean, fuck, you said it yourself… I fucked Rage…right in front of him.  I didn’t acknowledge how proud I was of what he and Michael had done with the comic; I fucking humiliated him instead.”

“Why did you?” Ethan asked, and Brian laughed bitterly.

“I thought he was with you,” he said finally.

Ethan jerked back from Brian with a startled sound, and Brian dragged his hands down over his face.

“I knew about you… I knew Justin had been seeing you.  That you’d been fucking around.  I didn’t know about Sam,” Brian said finally, and understanding dawned on Ethan’s face slowly as compassion glowed in his eyes.

“You thought he was cheating on you…with me,” Ethan said, and when Brian huffed, but then nodded, Ethan sighed.

“You took away his choice, because you thought he couldn’t… or wouldn’t…choose.  Jesus, Brian… you should’ve just asked him.”

Brian licked his lips before he finally nodded, and Ethan slumped against the couch.  But when he reached out and tangled his fingers with Brian’s, he felt the older man squeeze his hand briefly before letting it go.  They sat in silence for a while; Sam got another round of beer, and Brian drank his slowly.

“You love him… don’t you?”

Ethan’s words were wistful; spoken softly in the room that held such horrible memories.  Brian turned his head and looked into those soulful brown eyes.  He could see what had attracted Justin to the young man; his romantic looks aside, there was genuine emotion on Ethan’s face.  Understanding.  Compassion.  And deep-seated kindness.  Brian exhaled softly as he stared at him.  Whatever he saw on Brian’s face in that moment caused Ethan to smile as he curled further into himself on the couch.

“Good…”

Ethan closed his eyes, and then sighed.  Brian continued to watch him, and then spoke his veiled fear quietly as Ethan’s face began to flush when sleep slowly began to seep through his bones.

“Justin said that he had loved me… loved…past tense…”

Ethan laughed softly, even as sleep slowly crept over his face.

“He loves you… might not wanna… but he loves you.  Don’t doubt that, Brian… don’t doubt him.  Show him that he isn’t your second choice…the backup…”

Brian continued to watch Ethan as the young man’s voice trailed off and he fell asleep.  There was innocence on Ethan’s face as he slept; the same innocence that all but glowed from Justin when he slept.  Comforted by that, Brian closed his eyes, and let the memories of Justin sleeping beside him wash over him.  He never felt Sam steer Ethan up from the couch and coax him into bed.  He never felt the gentle hands that guided him onto his side; those same hands slipped a pillow under his head and tucked a warm blanket around his body. 

For the first time in a long time, Brian dreamed of blue eyes that reflected love, and the soft whisper of his boy confirming those feelings; when he eventually woke up, he felt rested.  But more than that, he felt ready.  For what, he wasn’t sure.  But as he silently folded the blanket and left it on the end of the couch, he knew that the two boys who slept tangled together had a lot to do with it.  Looking at them, thanking them silently for everything they had done, Brian slipped out of their apartment and into the dawn of a new day.       


	22. Chapter 22

22.

Justin figured that he should have been used to appearing partially naked in front of people that he barely knew; ninety percent of Liberty Avenue’s gay men had seen his bare ass.  They had seen him get fucked by Brian, or seen him fucking other men.  And even though he wore briefs, and his nutritionist wasn’t touching him unless it was necessary, he still felt uncomfortable in a way that he had never felt before. 

“Very good, Justin; you’ve gained another couple of ounces.  A couple more, and you’ll have regained another pound.”

Justin nodded as Carol gestured for him to step off the scales; the room was slightly cold, and he shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself.  He could feel the outline of his ribs beneath his fingers; they weren’t as prominent as they had been, and as another shiver wracked his body, she looked up at him and smiled.

“Get dressed, sweetie, and take a seat.” 

Justin nodded and did as he was told.   Carol settled behind her desk and raised her eyebrow while he put his clothes back on.

“So, how are you doing with the meal plans that I created for you?”

Justin sank into the chair opposite her desk, and raising his thumb to his mouth shrugged slightly.

“Justin?”

“I feel like every time I turn around, someone is shoving food in my mouth,” he said finally, and Carol laughed softly.

“They are,” she said with a cheeky wink.  “But the food that’s being prepared for you is high in calories; calories that you need.  It can’t all be about fast food and Pop Tarts.”  She peered at her patient’s file sitting on her desk.  “Let’s see what you’ve got on the menu for today: you had an omelet with cheese and spinach for breakfast, and then you’ve got a salad with chicken and egg for lunch, and for dinner it’s beef stew with potato and steamed greens, followed by rice pudding.  A cereal bar and protein shake in between breakfast and lunch, and then another shake, yogurt, and assorted nuts after lunch.”

“Yum,” Justin said dryly.  “Mystery meat stew… my favorite.”

Carol’s brow creased when she frowned, and Justin blew out a hard breath, shaking his head.   “I’m not used to eating that much anymore,” he admitted softly, and Carol nodded as her face grew serious.

“I know you aren’t, but you are underweight, Justin; almost dangerously so.  You were put on a 3,400 calorie-a-day diet when you were admitted.  Now I am not saying that you have an eating disorder; far from it.  What you are, though, is far too skinny.  How are you meant to heal your mind, when your body is suffering, hmm?” she asked, and Justin nodded slightly as she made a note in his file.

“Do you have a session coming up?” Carol asked, and Justin nodded as they both rose from their seats.

“Yeah… group session.”

“Is that man of yours coming in to visit you today?”

Justin’s eyes snapped towards her, and Carol smiled.

“That gorgeous guy who visits you every night; the one who brings you those lemon bars that smell so good?”

Justin bit back a sigh and then shook his head.

“He’s not mine,” he mumbled.  “He’s no one’s man.”

Confusion colored Carol’s face for a moment, before she shrugged. 

“My mistake, sweetie; I thought he was your boyfriend.”

Justin shook his head as he pulled his hoodie over his head, and he tucked his fists into the sleeves of it in an effort to warm them up.

“I thought he was, too,” he said quietly, and then left the room without another word when Carol gestured for him to go ahead of her. 

Heading back towards the main section of the unit, Justin paused; Carol stopped when he did, and eyed him warily.

“Are you all right?” Carol asked, and Justin nodded.

“I guess… but I’d kill for a smoke; can you take me out?”

Carol glanced at her watch and then nodded. 

“You really should think about giving up the smokes, Justin, but yeah, you’ve got time before your next session.  You want a drink, too?”

Justin shook his head and followed her towards the glass-walled atrium; this was the unit’s one saving grace: an open space that was nestled in the middle of the building; a place to go, when you weren’t allowed outside.  Breathing in the fresh air, Justin sighed heavily as Carol paused before she closed the doors behind him.

“Have I upset you, Justin?” she asked, and Justin managed to smile as he shook his head and walked into the garden area.  She nodded as she closed the door.

Sitting down on one of the picnic tables that dotted the area, Justin lit his cigarette and smoked in silence.  He’d been in the unit for almost three weeks now; three weeks of Alex prying his head open and examining the contents.  Three weeks of him picking through the jumbled mess of his mind, and showing Justin the fractured pieces that he found.  Three weeks of showing Justin just how far he had fallen.

He had promised Alex that he would try while he was in the unit; that he would be open and honest.  So, he could openly and honestly say that he wanted nothing more than to crawl under the bed, pull the pillow over his head, and hide from the world.  He was sick of seeing the mess that his life was in.  He was sick to death of seeing the looks on everyone’s faces as they sat in on a session with him.   He was sick of the false understanding and the cloying sympathy that pressed in on him from all sides.

He’d had group sessions with his friends first; Ethan had walked into that initial session and wrapped both arms around Justin without comment.  It had been his unwavering support that caused Justin to lose his shit, and he had cried for the entire hour that Ethan had been there.  It had been out here in the atrium that they had finally talked.  Apologies had been exchanged between bouts of tears; apologies and reassurances from both sides that their friendship was rock solid and not going anywhere.

Sam’s session had been more relaxed; the boys had talked about music and art before Sam had steered the conversation towards their threesome.  His voice had been low when he had asked Justin if it had been something that he had actually wanted, or was it something that he had believed that he needed to participate in because of how Sam and Ethan had felt?  When Justin gaped at him, Sam admitted that it had caused him to lose sleep, especially after Justin had told Ethan that he would be whatever Ethan wanted him to be if the other boy would just take him home.

Justin had wound up curled in Sam’s lap that afternoon; in a quiet voice, Justin had reassured him that what had happened between them had been consensual and very much wanted.  It was then that Justin had admitted that he was jealous in a way; of the stability of Sam and Ethan’s relationship, and the easy way that they had with each other.  When Sam told him that he, too, could have that, Justin had shaken his head. 

He didn’t want a relationship anymore; he just wanted to get better, and then he wanted to move on with his life.  Sam had asked if that life was in Pittsburgh; Justin had sighed softly, before admitting that he didn’t know; there were too many memories here, and not all of them were good.  Maybe leaving Pittsburgh - and all those memories behind - was something that Justin should consider.  Sam hadn’t had an answer to that; he had merely wrapped his arms around Justin and held him until their session had drawn to a close.

His session with Daphne had been harder; tears had flowed on both sides, and Daphne had admitted that she didn’t know how to help him.  She had thought that she had been supporting him; holding him, and feeding him, and keeping him tethered to the world they shared.  She hadn’t seen how far down the hole he had fallen, and she blamed herself for Justin hiding the way he had.  Faced with her tears, Justin had been forced to admit that she had been the only thing keeping him alive some days.

That confession had horrified both Daphne and Alex.  It had been in that session that Justin had admitted that the day that he had been re-admitted to the unit, he had still felt like he was dying on the inside.  A better combination of medication was helping Justin start to level out his emotions, allowing him to open up to Daphne in a way he never had before.  And in opening up, Justin had told her that if they hadn’t been living together, he would have probably found a way to end his pain once and for all.

Daphne had asked him, with her voice wavering as she fought back her tears, if he still wanted to die.  Justin had been able to answer her honestly; no, he didn’t want to die anymore.  He just didn’t know how to reach out and grasp the tattered remains of his life.  He had no idea how to begin trying to glue the pieces back together, or how those pieces would look once he was done.  But the voice in his head that had been telling him everyone would be better off if he died had been silenced once and for all when he had admitted to Alex that he had tried killing himself.

That session had turned Justin’s once a day, one-on-one session into _twice_ a day, one-on-one sessions.  Alex dug further into his mind, as he tried to tease apart the tangled mess he found.  Justin had asked Alex if there was a chance that he had schizophrenia; if that was why he had heard the voice.  Never one to be an orthodox type of professional, Alex had shaken his head before impetuously gathering Justin into a hug.  That voice, he had murmured, was Justin’s mind playing tricks on him – it, too, was suffering under the crushing guilt that the blond had felt.  It had fallen silent, because Justin had finally opened up freed himself of it after admitting the truth.

Justin had confessed then that he didn’t want to participate in the sessions with the family; he was scared to learn what they thought, and what they wanted from him.  How was he meant to look them in the eye?  How was he meant to let go of what had happened?  Alex hadn’t been able to answer that question, but he had said that he wanted Justin to try; that they would start easy out with Ted and Emmett, and work their way up from there, and if all he ever accomplished in those sessions was to tell the family to fuck off, at least he would have the chance to do so.     

The first person who had sat down with him had been Ted; bluntly honest, and not scared to call a spade a spade, Ted had admitted to carrying debilitating anger when it had come to Michael and what he had said about Justin.  He just didn’t know how to deal with that anger when it was directed at someone he had once considered to be amongst his closest friends.  He had told Justin that when the blond had come into their lives, he had been a catalyst of sorts – forcing them all to grow up and embrace the change that Gus’s birth and Justin’s rebirth had caused.

Over steaming coffee and the chocolate chip cookies that Ted had bought with him, he had revealed that he admired the shit out of Justin, and that he wished he had had a friend like him when he had been in his own teens.   The man admired his intelligence, and the way he thought and analyzed things.  The fact that his brain was packaged in a very attractive outer wrapping meant nothing to Ted anymore – he enjoyed the intellect that Justin’s friendship offered him, and the fact that a man as good looking as Justin didn’t judge Ted on his own nerdy apperance.

Ted had then told Justin that he had been the cause of another shift – he and Brian were becoming friends outside of Michael and Emmett.  Ted said that he owed Justin a debt of gratitude for forcing him to open his eyes and see Brian as more than the Stud of Liberty Avenue.  Justin had tilted his head slightly at the man’s words, and Ted had reached out to lightly touch Justin’s hand, before telling him that he wasn’t the only one who had changed.   

Justin sighed as he looked down at the table; his first session with Emmett had made Justin wonder just how blind he had become since waking up from his coma after Hobbs had bashed him when the nelly queen had assured Justin that he could still trust him.  Emmett had kept the promise he had made to the blond; seeing Tommy had gone a long way toward Justin feel like he would be able to talk to Emmett in another session.  That second session, however, had been very difficult on both sides.

Emmett had tackled the idea of honesty head on; his opening statement to Justin had been the reason why he had called him a broken boy toy.  By the end of that session, Emmett had been openly crying, and so had Justin.  The session had planted seeds in Justin’s head, however, about Brian’s behavior when Justin had been in the hospital after the bashing.  In a soft, lilting voice, Emmett had explained that Brian had lost himself during that time; that his guilt had driven the man to trick like Emmett had never seen him do before. 

But in all the tricks that he had had during that time, not one of them had been blond, or twink-like.  The one time a blond twink had approached Brian, the man had fled Babylon as if Hounds of Hell were nipping at his heels.  After explaining those odd behaviors, Emmett had then spoken about a very different Brian; the one who had single handedly closed Babylon’s doors after finding out what the Sap had tried to do to Justin.

This Brian went to Woody’s and had a couple of beers while playing pool.  He was seen with his mini-me son, playing in the park, and nibbling on lemon bars on Saturday afternoons.  But he didn’t go to the other clubs on Liberty Avenue.  He hadn’t been seen trying to drink himself to death, nor had he ever seemed stoned out of his mind.  This Brian Kinney was not the same one who had buried what he had felt when Justin had been hospitalized after being bashed. 

This Brian Kinney was still in therapy three times a week with Alex; he was trying to learn how to handle his problems.  He was learning how to deal with his past, so that his future would be a better one than what he had envisioned for himself.  This Brian Kinney was different than the one that Justin had walked away from; they were _all_ different.  This Brian Kinney was one that Emmett called his close friend.

Justin bit his lip before he lit another cigarette; inhaling deeply, he blew out a steady stream of smoke.  The Brian Kinney that Emmett and Ted spoke about was the same man who Carol had described.  Since the afternoon that Brian had handed him the photographs that Renee had taken, he had begun stopping by after work every night.  Sometimes they made small talk; other times they sat in silence and watched the world pass them by outside the window.  And without fail, Brian always had a lemon bar for Justin.  

_“I want you in any way that I can have you… I'll take whatever you **can** give me, Justin.  Friendship, if you can’t give me anything else; just stop shutting me out.  Let me in… let me help you.”_

Justin sighed softly as Brian’s voice whispered in his head again; he had told him that they had never been friends; that they never would be.  Brian knew that Justin didn’t want to go back to the way things had been; and true to his word, he was trying to be… his friend.  Someone who Justin could sit in silence with; who didn’t expect him to be some dancing fucking monkey with a smile on its face.  He would have given Brian everything at one point – if he had needed more, Justin would have found a way to give it to him.  Now Justin simply had nothing else left to offer.

He knew Brian wanted to fuck him; the man couldn’t hide it.  But Justin couldn’t have that type of non-relationship with Brian anymore; not when it left him feeling used up and empty.  Not when his stomach rolled with nausea at the mere thought of facing his ex during sex; Brian had the ability to strip away more than just Justin’s clothes when they had sex.  He couldn’t hide how the man made him feel – he’d never been able to.  Not from the very first night…he couldn’t let Brian have that power over him again.

He was empty; hollowed out and tired.  Nineteen years of age, and he felt like he had lived five lifetimes already.  He just wanted it to get easier; he had told Alex that, and Alex had said that in time it would.  He just had to trust that Alex would lead him out of the dark he was trapped in and back into the light.  Trust… easier said than done, when Justin didn’t trust his own fucking mind, let alone the people around him. 

The sound of the door opening pulled Justin out of his dark thoughts, and when Alex sat down beside him, Justin squinted at him through the haze of smoke he had exhaled.

“I can’t remember who it is I’m seeing today,” he said finally when Alex remained silent, and Alex reached out slowly and gripped Justin’s hand.

“Your mother is coming in today, Justin,” he said gently, and Justin snorted and looked away.

“In other words, I’ll spend this session apologizing for being here, and asking her not to cry; can I play hooky, Alex, and hide in the TV room instead?” he asked dryly, and Alex laughed softly.

“Nooo…come on, she’s not _that_ bad,” Alex said, and Justin snorted again as he slanted his eyes towards Alex.

“I’ll make you a deal; you get through this session..,” Alex said with a laugh when he caught sight of the ‘ _are you shitting me?_ ’ look on Justin’s face, “…and I’ll bring you back a burger for dinner.”

Justin narrowed his eyes slightly, and then pursed his lips.

“I’ll make you a _better_ deal,” he said finally.  “If she doesn’t burst into tears within the first five minutes, you’ll make it _two_ burgers.” 

Alex snickered and held his hand out for Justin to shake.

“Deal… just don’t tell Carol… she’ll rip my balls off and wear them as earrings.  Now come on, stop putting it off.  The quicker we get inside, the quicker we can start.”

Justin sighed but finished his cigarette without further comment.  Alex’s hand was warm against his lower back as he guided Justin inside, and Justin fought the urge to twitch as they walked towards Alex’s office.  Alex’s office was nice; done in cream and pale green, the chairs were comfortable, and the lighting subdued.  Jennifer was already waiting when Alex opened the door, and she brushed her lips over Justin’s cheek gently before they sat side-by-side on the couch. 

Justin let his mind drift slightly as Jennifer made small talk with Alex; his mom was always a perfect WASP.  It was only when Alex asked Jennifer if she had any questions for Justin, that his mother turned towards him and moistened her lips.  Justin stiffened as she raised her eyes to meet his; he knew that gesture well.  She was upset about something, and nervous that Justin was going to flip his shit.  Bracing himself, Justin waited for whatever it was that she was going to say.

“You look healthier… stronger…” Jennifer began, and Justin nodded as he sank his teeth into the inside of his lip.

“He looks healthier, doesn’t he, Alex?” Jennifer said as she glanced over at him for confirmation.  Justin watched Alex’s eyebrows drew together slightly in concern as Jennifer looked down at her hands.

“How’s Molly?” Justin asked in a low voice, and Jennifer looked up in surprise.

“She was happy to see you the other day,” Jennifer finally said.  “She was upset to learn that you were back in the hospital, but, uh… seeing you went a long way towards making her feel better.  She wants to come back this weekend and see you again.”

“I’d like that,” Justin said softly, and Jennifer nodded as she wrung her hands in her lap.

“Molly, uh… your Dad had her last weekend… and he…uh…”

Justin swallowed hard, an icy chill rolling down his spine as his mother stuttered over her words.  His pulse had quickened painfully when Jennifer had mentioned Craig, and as Jennifer finally lifted her gaze to meet Justin’s, he fought to keep his breathing steady as crushing pain spread throughout his body.

“He wants to come and see you,” she said finally.  “He wants to see for himself how you are doing.”

Justin immediately shook his head, even as Jennifer reached out to grab his hand in hers.

“Justin… he’s your father,” she said quietly, and Justin shook his head again as his stomach rolled.

“No… he isn’t,” he managed.  “He hasn’t been my father since he kicked me out of the house for being gay… since he looked at me and saw an abomination instead of the child he had raised for seventeen years… I don’t _want_ to see him.”

Jennifer fought back tears as Justin’s breathing changed; she could hear the panic he was fighting against in the broken gasps that escaped his mouth.  Alex rose from his seat in alarm as the color in Justin’s face bled away, leaving him as white as a ghost.  But as he stepped out from behind his desk, Jennifer spoke again.

“Justin, please… he’s threatening to get a court order… he said that if you don’t agree to see him, he will have a judge force the issue by declaring that you are mentally unfit and incapable of making your own decisions.  He said that Brian had brainwashed you, and that now that you two have parted company, he feels like he could work out some type of agreement with you regarding school…”

Justin gaped at her momentarily; he had heard the words that had come out of her mouth.  He understood what they meant.  Now that he wasn’t whoring himself out to Brian for tuition, his father had decided that his son was maybe, perhaps, worth knowing again.  Like the last two years hadn’t happened; like he hadn’t died in that parking garage and been reborn as the broken young man who sat in this pretty green office, facing yet one more betrayal from someone who had proclaimed to care about him. 

Justin felt the first wave of agony crash down on him; felt it in the searing pain that stole his ability to breathe and sent him momentarily blind.  He heard Alex call his name; heard it, and tried to make his voice work as another wave crested.  And in the space of a heartbeat, as that wave broke over his head and dragged him under, he heard a very distinct click in his mind.  And in that very moment, Justin Taylor stopped existing. 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Alex glanced at the clock and sighed – to say that this morning’s session between Justin and Jennifer had been a cluster fuck of epic proportion was the understatement of the century.  In the silence that had followed Jennifer’s statement on what his father wanted, Justin had shut down.  It was like someone had cut his strings; his face had fallen slack, and his eyes had gone flat.  By the time Alex had closed the few steps between them, Justin had already locked himself away in his own mind, and nothing that Alex had done since had worked to bring the boy back.

Jennifer had left the hospital in tears when she realized what had happened; Justin hadn’t responded to her voice or her touch.  He hadn’t even flinched when she cupped his face in her hands and demanded that he speak to her.  He was just gone.  After Jennifer had left, Alex had been at a loss as to what to do; he had never seen Justin shut down the way he had.  In the end, he had gently led Justin back to his room, where he was being observed by a nurse.  Justin had retreated to the armchair in his room; curled up in the chair, he sat with his knees drawn up against his chest and his eyes fixated on the world outside his window. 

Alex glanced at the clock again; the boy hadn’t moved from his chair in over five hours.  His lunch sat untouched on the tray, and Alex was beginning to get desperate.  This was worse than when he had first been admitted to the unit and looked like the walking dead; back then, he had responded to his friends.  But not even a visit from Ethan and Daphne had broken through to Justin; he had allowed the musician to stroke his head, and Daphne to hold his hands, but he had remained silent and still. 

It had been Ethan who had quietly suggested that Alex call Brian – to tell the man to come in earlier than usual.  Ethan had shrugged at Alex’s raised eyebrows before muttering that he didn’t hate the fucker – he just really disliked him.  Daphne had pursed her lips, but a telling look from Ethan silenced any objection the girl might have made.  Ethan had said quietly that maybe Justin’s pride would pull him out of this tunnel – he hated appearing weak at any given time, but none more so than when Brian was around.

It was then that Alex realized something; Justin’s friends no longer trusted him like they had once done.  Prior to Boytoy, if Justin had spoken about Brian to either Ethan, Sam, or Daphne, they had always quietly let Alex know what had been said.  It might not have been a conscious decision to keep the conversations between the four young people private now, but private they were.  If it was detrimental to Justin’s overall health and recovery, they spilled faster than a dropped glass of scotch.  But if it wasn’t... if it didn’t hurt Justin’s recovery…        

Alex pushed his troubling thoughts away when Brian was shown into his office.  Turning to face him, he briefly admired the Armani suit that Brian wore before gesturing toward the couch.  Brian frowned slightly, but sank into the plush cushions without comment.  He remained silent as Alex explained what had happened, but the psychologist saw the anger that darkened Brian’s eyes when the reason was made known; Brian pinched the bridge of his nose when Alex finally fell silent, and he shook his head slightly.

“I don’t understand… is he just…not talking?”

Alex shook his head as he sat forward in his seat, and he gestured helplessly.

“No, it’s more than that, Brian.  This is called disassociation; to put it in plain terms, Justin has decided that the world is too hard to deal with and has disassociated himself from it,” Alex said quietly.  “We sometimes see it in patients who are on the autism spectrum and it has varying levels of severity.  In Justin’s case, this whole journey just got too hard; there were too many changes in a short period of time, and he cracked under the pressure.  He’s taking what I call a mental time out – locking himself inside the safety of his own mind, rather than facing the pain of the real world where people can hurt him.”

Brian licked his lips and then shook his head again.

“Has he ever done this before?” he asked, and Alex nodded.

“Yes.  He did this to an extent when he was first admitted to the unit, and then again after he saw us together at Boytoy.  Back then, he would still respond to Daphne or Ethan.  This time, however, it was like they weren’t even there.”  

Brian blew out an unsteady breath and spread his hands.

“I thought he was getting better,” he said softly.  “He seemed more settled… he was more at ease when I was around… I thought I was helping to fix him.”

Alex shook his head helplessly as he stared at the other man.

“Brian… you can’t fix this…you can’t fix _him_.  _Justin_ has to be the one who fixes _himself_ ; you can support him, but you can’t do it _for_ him.  That was the whole point of therapy, be it his case or yours.  You have to learn to fix what is wrong with _you_ , before you can even contemplate attempting to rebuild a relationship with _him_.”

Brian sucked in a shaky breath as he slumped against the back of the couch. 

“How long will he remain… locked in his head?” Brian asked, and Alex shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said finally.  “Justin has to _want_ to come back, Brian.  I told you that depression was an ugly bastard to deal with.  I warned you back when you first found out; there will be days where you wonder what the fuck you are doing, and _why_.  You’ll think that you aren’t getting anywhere, and that you are going backwards.  This, my friend, is one of those days.”

Brian pressed his lips firmly together as he stared at Alex with wide eyes, and as the color slowly drained from his face, Alex knew that Brian was remembering the remainder of that conversation.

“You said that I might still lose him… you didn’t just mean in the biblical sense… did you?” he managed, and Alex shook his head.

“No, Brian.  I didn’t.  Prior to him admitting what he had done, I thought I had made headway with Justin; he told me a week ago that he had _still_ felt like he was dying the day I re-admitted him.  If Justin hadn’t opened up when he had - if he hadn’t reached for help - he would have eventually tried to take his own life again.  We’ve spoken about that; he _is_ getting better, Brian; he doesn’t feel like that anymore.  But this journey was always going to be one step forward, two steps back.”

Brian blew out an unsteady breath as he raked his hands through his hair.  Color had returned to his face after Alex’s reassurance, and he rose to his feet slowly.

“He’s in his room?” he managed to ask, and Alex nodded.

“Yeah; I’ll come down with you.”   

Brian maintained his silence on the walk to Justin’s room.  Alex heard the sigh that escaped the man when he caught sight of the blond; Justin was still curled up in his chair.  Crossing the room, Brian tugged his suit jacket off and laid it across the end of Justin’s bed before he moved towards the young man; he brushed his hand over Justin’s head, before he sank to a crouch in front of the boy.  Looking up into the blank face, Brian shook his head before he glanced at Alex.

“Has he eaten today?” he managed, and Alex shook his head.

“Not since breakfast.  He hasn’t moved, Brian, in hours.”

Brian bit his lip as he turned back to face Justin; Alex let the silence in the room linger until Brian finally seemed to come to some sort of decision and he nodded once. Alex jerked when Brian suddenly reached out and gently tugged Justin’s legs down one at a time.  He smoothed his hands up each calf; rubbing the stiff muscles gently, before he stood up and reached for Justin’s hands.  For a moment, Alex was tempted to stop him; but when Brian was able to pull Justin up from the chair like a docile puppet, he bit his tongue. 

Wrapping his arm around Justin’s waist when the blond rocked momentarily on his feet, Brian slowly led him into the bathroom.  Alex pushed away from the door frame and looked through the open door; he could only watch in surprise as Brian carefully guided Justin through using the toilet to empty his bladder, and then over to the tiny hand basin to wash their hands.  He was methodical as he tucked Justin’s hair behind his ear, and then guided him out of the bathroom and back towards his seat.  It was only when he settled Justin into his chair again and pulled a spare one closer that Alex was able to clear his throat.

But when Brian reached for the bowl that was sitting on the tray beside Justin’s chair, Alex sucked his lips into his mouth as Brian peeled the cover off and peered down into the bowl.  The rich scent of beef stew filled the air, and Brian breathed out a shaky breath as he reached for the spoon.  Alex swallowed hard as Brian scooped some of the stew up, but when he lightly brushed the tip of the spoon over Justin’s lower lip, Alex blinked back the burning in his eyes when Justin’s lips slowly parted and Brian slipped the spoon into his mouth.

“I, uh… I remember learning to feed Gus this way, because you showed me how to, Sunshine,” Brian said quietly.  “You showed all of us… you can’t expect a baby to just open his mouth to something he’s never eaten before…you have to tease him into wanting it… you showed me how… you showed me…”

For a minute, Alex thought that Justin wouldn’t do anything but sit there with the food in his mouth.  But then that pale throat worked, and when Brian lifted the next spoonful of food to his lips, Alex saw that Justin was chewing before he swallowed.  Slowly, and methodically, Justin chewed each spoon of meat and vegetables before swallowing, allowing Brian to slowly feed him as he hid within the dark recesses of his own mind.

It took Brian an hour to get Justin to eat the stew; in the end, the blond simply closed his lips when he was full, and rested his head against the back of the armchair.  Brian made no comment; he merely reached for the paper napkin, and wiped the remnants of the rich gravy from Justin’s mouth.  Setting the napkin, bowl, and spoon back on the tray, Brian then leaned forward and rested his head against Justin’s thighs.  Alex silently backed out of the room as Brian slid his arms around Justin’s calves and a shudder wracked his frame; and as he did so, he sent up a silent prayer that if anyone up there loved these two men, that maybe they could send down a helping hand. 

 

 

I keep getting asked what Tommy and Sam look like - as I can't figure out how the hell to insert images on this website, I've liked to Kinnetikdreams, and the same chapter and the pics are at the bottom of the page. Cheers, guys. xx

[Chapter 22 KD](http://www.kinnetikdreams.com/Adminftp/eFiction355/viewstory.php?sid=1174&chapter=22)

 


	23. Chapter 23

23.

The thumping base made conversation impossible; Tommy didn’t need words, however, to communicate.  Sweat ran down the sides of his face like the tears he had already shed; dragging his forearm across his damp face, he raised his arms and closed his eyes again as he ground back against the body that he was touching.  Firm thighs, a well-toned stomach, and tender hands that skimmed up his ribcage, drawing his sweat-soaked top up and over his head.  Those same hands brushed across the swell of his ass as his top was tucked into his back pocket, before they grasped his rolling hips and then slid across his stomach as he was drawn back into a gentle embrace.

Dropping his head back against the shoulder that he barely came up to, Tommy managed a small smile when Emmett bent his knees slightly to make up for their height difference.  Emmett had come to his school that afternoon; Tommy had recognized the sleek little silver compact that Emmett drove, and had made his way over to the car without thought.  But once seated in the front seat of the car, Tommy’s heart had been broken for the first time when Emmett had explained in a soothing voice why he was there. 

Justin had taken a step forward in his recovery, only to then suffer a setback; Tommy had wept bitterly against Emmett’s shoulder when the man had finished explaining what had happened.  Unconcerned about the fact that they were sitting in a crowded parking lot at his school, Tommy had let Emmett gather him into his arms.  When he had eventually been able to pull his shit back together, Tommy had asked Emmett if he could take him to the hospital, so that he could visit Justin himself.  Upon arriving, he had met Justin’s mom; she’d been nice enough, but his concern, however, had been for his silent friend, and not the polite conversation she had tried to make.

Justin had been curled up in the armchair by the window; his eyes had been vacant and unfocused as he stared off into a world that Tommy couldn’t see.  When his eyes had darted between Justin and Emmett, the older man had suggested quietly that he talk to Justin, to tell him about his day.  So, he had; Tommy had spoken about the dance program he was learning at school, and the satisfaction he was getting out of learning the more complicated routine.  And as he spoke, he leaned against the arm of the chair and gently ran his fingers through Justin’s hair.

Tommy had felt Justin’s full body shiver when he scratched his nails gently across the blond’s scalp, so Tommy kept repeating the motion.  Nails across the scalp, followed by the drawing out of the long strands between his fingers.  And the more he stroked Justin’s head, the more he seemed to relax.  He never spoke; he never moved.  But Justin relaxed to the point that his eyes gradually slipped shut and stayed that way, his breathing evening out and becoming more regular. 

Alex had visited while Tommy had been there; he had said that although Justin wasn’t present in the physical sense, he still wouldn’t react well if he was touched.  Tommy had seriously thought about poking his tongue out at the man; instead, he merely raised his eyebrows before deliberately running his fingers through Justin’s hair again.  Emmett had hidden his smile when Justin seemed to lean into Tommy’s touch, but Alex had been too busy talking to Jennifer to pay Tommy any attention.

Emmett had taken Tommy home not long after that.  The nelly queen had asked Tommy what his plans had been for the evening, and Tommy had sighed before admitting that he needed to dance – to move and feel the thump of the music travel through his blood.  That was when Emmett had asked him if he would like to go to Boytoy with him?  He, too, felt like dancing, and he missed dancing with Justin more than anything. 

So here they were; drawn together by a mutual love for music, dancing, and Justin – feeling the heavy thump of the base, and the underlying current of lust in the air.  They had danced for the last hour, and as Tommy shoved his hands through his sweat-soaked hair, Emmett peeled himself away from Tommy’s body and turned the boy around.  Tommy was immediately blinded by the flashing lights behind the DJ, and even as he squinted to see, Emmett was turning him slightly so that the strobe lights were no longer directly in his eyes. 

Emmett pointed towards the bar and then made an exaggerated drinking motion that had Tommy laughing helplessly as Emmett motioned for him to stay where he was.  Tommy nodded again and turned away as Emmett disappeared into the crowd.  Boytoy was packed tonight; Tommy hadn’t seen it this busy on a Monday night in a long time.  Tucking his shirt further into his back pocket, Tommy resumed dancing.  As he danced, a boy his own age approached him with a flirtatious smile, and Tommy grinned as the boy reached out to rest his hands on Tommy’s hips as they began to brush up against each other.

They danced together for a few songs, but the boy abruptly backed away from Tommy when an arm was wrapped around his stomach, and he was tugged backward into a hard body.  Glancing over his shoulder to see who was touching him, Tommy was again blinded by the flashing lights as the arm around his waist was joined by another; a rough hand slid slowly across his upper chest and gripped his shoulder firmly, and a naked torso pressed up against his back, causing him to stop still.

Thick thighs pushed up against his own slender legs, while the curve of his ass was cradled by a set of hips that pressed as close as possible to him.  A pair of slightly chapped lips brushed across his temple, and Tommy bit his own lip as those hips began to slowly roll against him.  It was a rhythm that Tommy’s body couldn’t ignore, and he closed his eyes again and resumed dancing, letting his own body fall into the rhythm set by the guy behind him.

It was only when he started dancing again that the firm grip on his shoulder loosened; the hand that had been clamped around the curve of flesh and bone slowly slid across his clavicle, and then down the center of his torso.  Tommy’s breathing hitched when a thumb briefly rubbed across his nipple, causing it to tighten, and as he took another breath, the first wave of desire rolled over him.  Warm and pulsing, it shimmered across him as those exploring fingertips stroked across his ribs before the hand flattened against his side and traveled down towards his belly.   

Calloused fingertips circled his belly button before briefly dipping inside the indentation, causing Tommy’s back to arch slightly as his cock thickened inside his pants.  And as his back arched, he felt the thick erection that the guy was sporting; a groan echoed beside his ear, and the hand on his stomach pulled him back tightly before those hips thrust against his ass.  Tommy stilled for all of five seconds before need set his blood on fire, and he deliberately rolled his hips in answer to the next testing thrust of the guy’s hips.

The guy’s hand skated across his stomach, and Tommy felt the full strength in those hands when they latched onto his hips and squeezed.  The fingers were flattened out against his hips, and Tommy rolled his hips more slowly as they bent inwards towards the button fly of his jeans. Tommy dropped his head backward and found that it came to rest against the curve of a shoulder; the guy was tall.  Tall and broad, his whole body surrounded Tommy’s own slight frame.  

Those calloused fingers flexed before they slowly crawled back up his body as they ground together; up over his ribcage, around his nipple, and towards his throat.  Those same fingers grasped his chin and turned his head, and Tommy closed his eyes against the blinding lights as a warm mouth settled firmly against his own.  He was physically turned within a set of muscular arms, and as a tongue pushed its way into his mouth, Tommy opened his eyes.  He briefly saw the black snapback of a backward-facing baseball cap and sweat dampened hair before he was blinded by the lights again.

The arms around his waist pulled him into a what felt like a wall of pure muscle; forced up onto his tiptoes by the height difference between them, Tommy slid his hands up over smooth skin to grasp broad shoulders, and he swallowed the groan that echoed from the guy’s mouth into his own as he slipped his hand around the nape of the guy’s neck.  Tommy could feel the brim of the cap he was wearing against the back of his hand, and his own grunt echoed when the guy abruptly shoved his hand into the empty back pocket of his jeans to grab his ass in a firm grip, while his other arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders in a secure embrace.

This kiss was very different from the one he had shared with Justin; Justin’s had tasted faintly of cigarette smoke and while he had shown great skill, he had kept his hands on Tommy’s face the entire time they had kissed.  Tommy had felt safe and cared for, and it had only been after he had replayed the kiss a dozen times over in his mind that he had realized he had been the only one to get hard.  This kiss, however, spoke of pure desire; the guy rubbed his erection against Tommy’s stomach, and as his minty-tasting tongue stroked over Tommy’s, the guy kept pressing them closer together.

Tommy broke the kiss and he sucked in a lungful of air, his lips dragging across the guy's cheek as he turned his head slightly.  The air escaped his body in a high pitched whine when the hand in his pocket squeezed his ass firmly, and as he inhaled the breath he had taken was stolen from his mouth when he was pulled into a second kiss.  Firm lips moved against his mouth, and that warm tongue slid across the seam of his lips in a plea for entry before dipping back into his mouth and coiling along his own.

A very different kiss indeed; while the guy was double his size in every way but height, Tommy didn’t feel threatened.  The hand in his back pocket squeezed his ass gently before it slid slowly up the center of his spine.  Rough with callouses, his touch set Tommy’s nerve endings alight, and he squirmed at the feeling; he felt more than heard the soft chuckle the guy gave as the kiss they were sharing ended momentarily, allowing Tommy another lungful of air before his mouth was captured again.  This kiss stole more than his breath – Tommy felt his control over his own body begin to fail as he rubbed up against the hard body he was pressed so tightly against.      

It was only as his hips began to rock against a hard thigh that the guy dropped away from Tommy’s mouth; he didn’t go far, however.  His lips skated across Tommy’s cheek, and then down the line of his throat.  Teeth nipped lightly at his skin, and Tommy was unable to bite back the moan that escaped his swollen lips as his hips jerked in reaction as each nip ended with a sucking motion.  But just as quickly as it had started, it stopped; the guy grasped his hand and pulled him across the crowded dance floor towards the catwalk.  Finally free of the blinding lights, Tommy quickened his pace as the guy walked up the stairs and towards the couches that lined the walls.

He admired the muscle tone of the young man’s shoulders and back in front of him, and the way they tapered off into a slender waist; but when the guy turned around to sit down on an empty couch, Tommy felt his jaw drop when he recognized who had been kissing him.  Roman reached out and grabbed his hips as he stared up at Tommy.  Shock kept him mute as Roman slid his feet between Tommy’s legs, and he pulled Tommy towards him as he sank back onto the couch.  His backward motion drew Tommy onto his lap, and as Tommy’s knees sank into the cushions on either side of his legs, Roman licked his lips as he pulled Tommy further down his thighs until their groins touched.

Hands solid against Tommy’s skin, Roman glided his hands up his sides until he was able to grasp the back of Tommy’s neck, and Tommy silently closed his eyes as he was pulled down into another kiss.  An arm was wound firmly around his lower back, keeping him anchored in the lap he was perched on.  But when Roman gently feathered those calloused fingertips across his cheek, Tommy felt the complete contrast of that gentle touch kick him in the chest.  Roman’s lips were firm against his mouth, and as his tongue lightly rubbed against his own, Tommy felt those thick fingers skate across his cheek and wind into the damp strands of hair that fell against the nape of his neck.

Tommy pulled back from the kiss and stared down into the dark eyes that peered back up at him.  Roman merely shook his head and pressed his fingers over Tommy’s swollen lips when Tommy went to speak; he rocked his hips upwards, instead, and Tommy’s eyes almost rolled back in his head as the thick erection Roman was sporting pressed up against his perineum and balls.  A full body shiver skittered down his spine, and Tommy moaned as Roman stretched up and kissed him again while continuing to rock his hips up against the juncture of Tommy’s thighs.

His chest hitched, and Tommy quivered again as his breathing deepened; when Roman rolled his hips upwards again, Tommy was unable to stop the counter roll of his own.  A dark thrill shot through him when Roman shuddered beneath him; Roman’s hands clamped down on his hips in encouragement, and Tommy moaned helplessly as the throbbing in his groin slowly spread across his body.  He could feel the tremors that continued to wrack his body, and when Roman tilted his hips and ground upwards, Tommy heard the groan that slipped out of Roman’s mouth as he pulled Tommy down firmly against his cock.

Tommy’s body shook as it reacted to the sudden jerk of Roman’s hips beneath his groin, and as he trembled slightly, Roman continued to roll his hips up against Tommy’s swollen cock.  Tommy panted against Roman’s mouth as his lips went lax; he could feel his body hurtling toward orgasm, and he was helpless to stop it as Roman held his hips firmly in place and thrust upwards again.  Tommy whined low in his throat as his whole body spasmed, and he dropped his head against the broad shoulder beneath him as his cock jerked in his pants and the wet slick of his cum spread across his skin.

Roman’s fingers clenched against his hips as Tommy shuddered, and he smoothed the width of his palms up Tommy’s back as Tommy continued to twitch in his arms.  Tommy could feel the thundering of Roman’s heart against his chest, and the solid line of his erection; he closed his eyes as Roman wrapped his arms around his waist and nuzzled his nose against Tommy’s shoulder while he slowly rolled his hips against Tommy’s sensitive groin.   Having cum cool against overheated skin was a rather disgusting feeling, especially when it was soaking into your underwear, and Tommy shivered again as awareness suddenly turned his brain back on.

This was Roman Archer; senior.  Hockey player.  Hell on fucking skates.  And while he had seen the older boy looking at him more than once during their shared classes, Tommy had never thought that Roman had been staring at him like _that_.  Mr. Popularity himself… the guy who never dated the same girl twice?  The memory of Justin telling him to be careful while at Boytoy flickered through his mind, and Tommy felt his skin break out in goosebumps as fear slowly rolled down his spine.  Roman Archer… senior.  _Straight_ hockey player. 

He abruptly pulled out from Roman’s embrace and wiggled off his lap as panic replaced the desire he had been feeling.  Tommy could feel his body continuing to twitch as Roman’s eyes narrowed slightly; Tommy shook his head as he took a step backward, and when Roman shifted on the couch, Tommy turned on his heel and fled.  He had to find Emmett… he had to get out of there.  Stumbling down the stairs, Tommy quickly melted into the crowd.  A glance over his shoulder told him that Roman had followed him down the stairs, and Tommy ducked behind the sheer white material that fell from the roof.

With his breath escaping his mouth in sharp little spurts, Tommy quickly pulled his top out of his back pocket and tugged it on over his head as he scanned the crowded dance floor.  He caught sight of Roman first, and he shrank back against the wall as he watched the older boy move through the crowd.  Standing on tiptoe, he finally caught sight of Emmett standing near the bar; checking to make sure that Roman was moving in the opposite direction and suddenly thankful that he was as short as he was, Tommy darted into the crowd and made his way to Emmett’s side.

Emmett only had to take one look at him to know something was wrong, and he immediately put his glass on the bar and wrapped his arm around Tommy’s shoulder.  In a move so smooth it felt choreographed, Emmett turned them towards the door, even as he tugged Tommy in front of his body and wrapped both arms around his torso.  Shielded by Emmett’s height, Tommy let the taller man move them through the crowd to the sign-out station.  Scribbling his name, Tommy continued to pant slightly as Emmett grabbed his hand and pulled him out the doors of the club and into the cold night air.

As the fresh wind brushed over his heated skin, Tommy had to jog to keep up with Emmett’s long-legged stride as the man dragged Tommy up Liberty Avenue to where he had parked his car.  It was only when he slid into the front seat and slammed his door shut that Tommy managed to calm down.  But when Emmett twisted in place to look at him, Tommy’s mortification was complete.  Overwhelmed from everything that had happened that day with Justin, and still shuddering from the aftershocks of his orgasm, Tommy burst into tears.  Emmett squeaked in alarm, and then gathered Tommy into his arms.  Between stuttered breaths, Tommy managed to explain what had happened, and Emmett’s lips settled into a thin line.

He nodded once, and then put his car into gear.  But as they drove past Boytoy, Tommy was unable to stop himself from looking towards the busy club, and as he did, he saw Roman pacing up and down the sidewalk with his cell phone against his ear as he gestured wildly.  His tears kept coming, and Tommy buried his face in his hands and wept as Emmett drove him home.  God, how was he going to show his face at school?  While there was zero tolerance toward bullying at his school, Tommy knew that didn’t stop it from happening – Justin was a prime example of that, even though Justin had attended St James and Tommy went to Valley Private.

Within half an hour he was safe at home; Emmett moved around his kitchen making hot chocolate as Tommy stood under the steaming water of his shower and scrubbed the dried cum off his skin.  There were faint bruises on his hips from where Roman’s fingers had tightened against him when he had shot his load, and he blinked back tears as he ran his fingers over them.  After finishing his shower, Tommy stared at his reflection in the mirror; the skin around his mouth was red and puffy, and there on his throat were several faint bruises from Roman’s teeth.  Climbing into warm sweatpants, Tommy slowly made his way back to the kitchen while rubbing his towel over his head.

After reassuring Emmett that he was okay, and that his tears were gone, Tommy sank down onto the barstool and slowly sipped the drink that Emmett had made him.  His dad had a dinner meeting with a potential client tonight and wouldn’t be home until late; he had made a point of meeting Emmett first, though, before allowing Tommy to leave the house with him to go to Boytoy.  After finishing his drink, Emmett had tucked Tommy in on the couch in front of the TV after he had said he wanted to be alone.  He made the boy promise to call him if he needed anything, and Tommy just nodded; after kissing Tommy goodbye, Emmett quietly left the boy to his thoughts.

Tommy sat in the darkened living room, and thought long and hard about what had happened.  He knew that Roman had been aroused; that he’d ground up against him until he had cum.  But this was also the boy who was known for his masculinity, his broad shoulders, and the fact that he dated the prettiest girls at school.  Tommy knew that there was no way that he himself could pass as anything but gay.  He wasn’t a girl; so what did that make him?  An experiment?  A dare?  A fucking joke?  Tommy brushed his hand across his cheek and swore softly.  It seemed his tears weren’t as gone as he’d thought.       

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Tommy didn’t sleep well; his dreams twisted into nightmares where he was taunted and laughed at as he pushed his way through crowds of faceless people, and it left him feeling paper thin and unsteady on his feet.  Staring at himself in the mirror the next morning, he took in the slightly gray pallor of his features, and the dark smudges under his eyes.  There was a tightness to the normally lush shape of his mouth, and the faint marks he had seen on his throat the night before had turned into bruises that stood out against his pale skin. 

The bus ride to school seemed to drag on forever, and he kept his eyes lowered as he made his way towards his locker; stashing his bag, Tommy grabbed the first set of books he required for class and then gave into the need to close his eyes.  Resting his face against the cold metal, he took a calming breath before he straightened up and closed his locker door.  The corridor was crowded with laughing students, and as his eyes darted across each face, Tommy felt a wave of nausea hit him when he caught sight of Roman talking to some of his teammates further down the hall.  Ducking his head, Tommy slipped into the throngs of students and hurried towards his first class before the older boy could spot him.

Making his way towards the far side of the class, Tommy settled into his seat, dropped his books on the table, and then placed his head in his hands.  Later, he wouldn’t be able to say what he was supposed to learn in that class; it was a blank slice of time that had gone by in a wave of confusion, embarrassment, and distress.  He wasn’t aware of the worried looks that Lily kept darting his way as he continued to swallow back the overly sweet taste of his saliva.  He wasn’t aware of the fact that Lucas Hill, captain of the hockey team and Roman’s best friend, was watching him silently while his fingers moved quickly over his phone until the teacher told him to put his phone away or lose it.

For twenty-six minutes Tommy swam in a sea of pure misery before the taste in his mouth turned metallic and he raised his hand and asked for a bathroom pass.  Maybe it was the slightly green cast to his skin, but his teacher nodded without comment, and Tommy all but fled.  Once he was hidden in a stall, he gagged, but nothing came up.  His skin felt prickly, and he panted as his stomach rolled again.  Tears burned in his eyes, but he desperately blinked them back.  The sound of the bathroom door opening registered faintly as he rested his head against the wall, but he ignored it as he fought to settle himself.

Standing up, he flushed the toilet and wiped his mouth as he left the stall and headed for the sink.  Rinsing his mouth under the tap, Tommy pressed his wet hands against his face briefly before straightening up.  But as he did so, he caught sight of Roman leaning against the door with his hands tucked into his pockets.  Humiliation warred with fear, and Tommy stumbled backwards when Roman straightened up.  Roman’s forehead creased, and he stopped where he was when Tommy took another step backwards.  Tommy swallowed as he lowered his eyes, and when Roman finally spoke, his voice was so quiet that Tommy had to strain to hear what it was he said.

“Did I hurt you last night?  Is that why you ran?”

Tommy’s eyes snapped upwards, and his face twisted slightly as he stared at Roman; the blond licked his lips as he took a step towards Tommy, and he spoke again as Tommy continued to stare at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked again, and Tommy shook his head to clear it.

“Something wrong… you date _girls_ ,” he said, and inwardly gave himself a high five when his voice didn’t waver.  “And the last time I checked, _I_ wasn’t female.”

Understanding and relief crossed Roman’s face in quick succession, and he blew out a steadying breath.

“I take girls to the school dances.  I don’t kiss them, Tommy.”

Tommy shook his head in confusion, and Roman took a couple more steps towards him.  But when Tommy took his own steps backward to maintain the distance between them, Roman stopped moving again as Tommy stared at him.

“Bi-curious?” Tommy finally asked, and a small smile teased Roman’s mouth as he shook his head.

“No, Tommy.  I’m not curious.  I’m very much settled on who I am.”

“You’re not… I mean…”

Tommy fell silent again as Roman reached into his pocket and pulled his cellphone out.  Thumbing through the options, he finally held it out to Tommy, who stared at the sleek phone as though it had grown teeth and was going to bite him; Roman gestured once more, and then he sighed as he set his phone down on the sink and then moved well out of reach when Tommy resolutely stayed where he was.

“Go on…” he said quietly, and Tommy hesitantly moved closer, before he reached out and picked the phone up.

Glancing down at the screen, he saw that he was looking at text messages between Roman and Lucas.  Looking back towards Roman, Tommy watched as the other boy shrugged.

“Read them,” he urged gently, and Tommy lowered his eyes back to the screen.

There were standard texts about homework and hockey practice.  Reminders about games, and conversations about parties they had gone to.  And scattered all throughout those mundane text messages, were messages about him.  Lucas telling Roman to grow a pair of fucking balls, and to stop staring at Tommy’s ass and actually go after it.  Messages about seeing some blond guy called Justin kissing Tommy at Boytoy.  Messages about Justin picking Tommy up after school.  A message that Tommy had been seen crying in some silver car in the parking lot, and did Roman know what was going on?  And finally, the last few messages.  

**_You’re asking me for advice on how to pick up a guy?  Isn’t that YOUR department?  Bro, I go for pussy, not cock._ **

_Jesus, Luc!  A little help here!_

**_I dunno, ask him to dance or something, Roman! Grow some fucking balls!_ **

_Some friend you are!_

**_I’m not gonna bother answering that, bro…_ **

_Fuck off, Luc; I helped you find that stupid fucking dog thing you wanted when you were dating Tanya!  You dragged me all over the fucking city at 8 a.m.!_

**_She sucked cock like a Hoover!  You really think I was gonna say no when she asked me to help her out?_ **

_Ew, Luc…just fucking ew._

**_Look, just go up to him at Boytoy and dance with him.  You’ve been panting after this kid since he started at VP.  What’s the worst thing that could happen?_ **

_Yeah, alright._

**_There you go!  I’ll catch you in the A.M; I’ve got a date with the books that can’t be ignored._ **

_I fucked up… Jesus, are you there, Lucas?_

_Answer the fucking phone! Or call me!!_

**_Found your boy; he ain’t looking real good, Roman._ **

_What’s wrong with him?_

**_Dunno.  But he ain’t a happy camper._ **

_Keep an eye on him for me?_

**_No worries._ **

**_Fuck, man, did you eat before you hooked up with him last night?  I can see the hickies from here!!_ **

_Seriously? Seriously.  You’re asking me that?  Do I ask you about your potential girlfriends and what you do in private?_

**_Bro, you left like… 5 hickeys on his neck, and that’s just what I can see from here!!  That shit ain’t private no more._ **

_And?_

**_Everyone is gonna know by lunch that someone got up close and personal with him._ **

_As long as Tommy’s okay with me being up close and personal with him, I don’t fucking care WHAT anyone else thinks._

**_He’s just left for the bathroom; second floor.  You’d better run, Roman, before he does._ **

Staring down at the phone in shocked silence, Tommy almost jumped out of his skin when the phone vibrated in his hand and another message appeared below the ones he was reading.

**_Roman?  Did you find him?  I’m gonna wait 5, and then I’m gonna go check on him just in case you can’t get outta class.  Text me back, you fucker!!_ **

Intent on the phone in his hand, Tommy was surprised when a pair of black shoes appeared in his line of sight.  Looking up slowly, he met Roman’s steady gaze, and he said the first thing that popped into his head.

“Not bi-curious…”

The smile that split Roman’s face was a mix of happiness and exasperation.

“No, Tommy… _not_ bi-curious _or_ straight.”

Roman stepped closer and reached up to grip Tommy’s chin in his fingertips so that he could tilt Tommy’s face up.

“You listening?” he asked softly, and when Tommy nodded with wide eyes, Roman smiled again.  “My name is Roman Archer.  I just turned eighteen.  I’m a senior, and I play center forward for the hockey team.  I have a little sister who drives me up the wall, and an older brother who plays pro hockey.  My best friend is Lucas Hill.  I hate Brussel sprouts, but I will eat them to make my mom happy.  And I’m gay.  While I don’t advertise it at school, I _am_ out to my family, my friends, and my teammates.  Any questions?”

Tommy merely blinked, and Roman grinned again as his fingers slid from Tommy’s chin to the nape of his neck.  He lowered his head slowly, and just before his mouth touched Tommy’s, Tommy finally found his voice.

“Not bi-curious…”

“Hmmm…curious about _you_ , maybe…”

His mouth had barely settled against Tommy’s when the door slammed open and Lucas walked into the bathroom.  He stopped short when he saw Roman and Tommy standing together, and for several seconds complete silence fell upon the three young men.  But then Lucas grinned, and he backed out of the bathroom as he spoke quickly.

“Yeah… I’ll let the teacher know you’re gonna be a _little_ while longer, Tommy…”

Tommy felt his face turn bright red, and as the door swung shut Lucas’s voice echoed again.

“He _finally_ grew some fucking balls!  There is a God after all!”

Tommy felt the giggle bubble up from his stomach, and it spilled out of his mouth when Roman’s jaw dropped in indignation.  Looking back down at Tommy, Roman grinned himself before resting his head against Tommy’s.

“I know we’ve gotta talk,” he said after a moment, “but I really need to get back to class.  I’ll find you at lunch time, okay?”

Tommy nodded again, and when Roman tilted his head up so he could brush a sweet, chaste kiss over his mouth, Tommy closed his eyes and prayed that this wasn’t some sort of twisted dream, and that he wasn’t about to wake up.


	24. Chapter 24

 24.

Disassociation; Brian hated the fucking term.  Hated what it meant, and everything related to it.  Hated that he saw the blank look on Justin’s face again, while knowing that it wasn’t a mask that he hid behind.  Hated that the people in his life had hurt him so severely that Justin had retreated into his own mind, rather than face the pain of being awake.  Three days.  His boy had been hiding within his own mind for three days.  He reacted to stimuli – his body would twitch, but there was no flicker of emotion to go with it.  No reaction to people talking to him.  There was no life behind the eyes that stared through you when you were standing right in front of him; nothing that marked his ex-lover as human and alive. 

_“…the boy you can remember before Prom, Brian?  He’s gone.  And he’s not coming back.  In his place is this beautiful creature of pure misery.  He might look the same.  He might even sound the same.  But you don’t know this Justin, Brian…”_

But…

This _was_ Justin; version 2.0.  The one that Alex had told him about all those weeks ago; the one that Brian was slowly getting to know.  The boy that Brian had fallen in love with was apparently gone; the young man who remained was an enigma that Brian was fighting to understand.  But… there were still hints of the boy who had fallen to the ground in the garage.  Signs of the innocence that Brian had loved peeking out from the darkness that Justin hid in.  Tiny moments that told Brian that Justin wasn’t gone; he was merely lost in the depression that had stolen him away from the people who loved him.    

There was _something_ there.  Something that told Brian that Justin was still fighting.  It was in the way he would hold himself rigidly when anyone came into his room; his whole body would lock up, even as his face and eyes remained utterly blank.  But he hadn’t had that reaction with Ethan, Sam, or Daphne.  He hadn’t had that reaction when according to Emmett, he had bought Tommy by to visit, and the pretty little twink had spent the afternoon combing his fingers through Justin’s hair and telling him about the program he was dancing in.

Justin hadn’t had that reaction with him. 

That alone told Brian that wherever it was that Justin had gone within his mind, his boy was looking at the broken pieces of his psyche and was trying to reassemble the fractured pieces into a working picture.  Brian had no idea what that picture would look like when Justin was finished, but one thing he was certain of – it wouldn’t change how he felt about him.  It wouldn’t change how much he was willing to fight to reclaim his lost youth.      

As much as Brian hated the fact that Justin had disassociated himself from the real world, there was a strong feeling of relief that on some level he was allowing him to take care of him.  It was more than bringing him a lemon bar or spending time together in silence.  It was in the way he would slowly chew whatever food Brian spooned into his mouth.  By the way he would empty his bladder whenever Brian took him into the bathroom.  In the way his muscles would quiver under Brian’s hands, but not lock up and become ridged.

Those quivering muscles were the reason that Daphne had put aside her anger and sat down with Brian and the two boys to work out a schedule.  One of them was always present for breakfast or lunch.  Brian knew that he had made inroads toward forgiveness with Daphne when she had regarded him with cool eyes, before asking him if he could handle the dinner shift and everything that went with it; Brian had merely nodded before learning _exactly_ what that meant.  It was an exercise in self-control, but it also gave him comfort in a way that nothing else had since this had started.      

Brian carefully wiped away the remnants of Justin’s dinner with a damp cloth; his nutritionist had reworked Justin’s meal plans so that everything he ate was soft, and there wasn’t a risk in him choking.  Soups thick with grain and vegetable, and slow-cooked stews filled with nutrients meant that Justin continued to slowly gain back the weight that he had lost over the last five months.  Sweet oatmeal, and baked potatoes that were smothered in sour cream.   

His face wasn’t as pale as it had been the day Brian had first learned about Justin’s attempt when he had seen him with Alex, Ethan, and Sam.  His skin had regained a soft flush of color, and it no longer looked like it was stretched thin over bone.  His face had slowly refilled, taking away the outer appearance of his illness.  His body no longer seemed as skinny as it had, although he still had at least ten pounds to regain.

Glancing at his watch, Brian set the cloth aside and headed into the bathroom; running the taps, he waited as the water warmed up before he filled the sink with hot, soapy water.  Returning to Justin’s side, he coaxed him to his feet and led him into the small bathroom.  Blowing out a deep breath and reminding himself that this was a lesson in control, Brian stripped Justin out of his clothes; ignoring the memories of warm showers and soapy hands sliding over slick skin, he rinsed the cloth out and set about washing Justin’s body.

His movements were practiced, and Brian deliberately kept his mind blank as he raised one of Justin’s arms, and rubbed the cloth briskly down the limb and into his armpit.  Rinsing the material, he continued to wash the pale body before him; across his chest and stomach, and between his thighs where his soft cock remained nestled against dark gold curls.  Down the lightly furred length of his legs, and then up across his back.  The smooth skin of his ass, and the treasured place between the firm globes, before he dropped the cloth in the sink and grabbed the towel.

Brian dried Justin’s body briskly as goose bumps marred the silky texture of his skin, and then reached for the stick of deodorant.  Clean clothes; black briefs, thick socks, and warm sweatpants.  A long-sleeved tee-shirt that caused Justin’s hair to crackle with static electricity when he pulled it over Justin’s head and guided his arms into the sleeves.  A hoodie that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and, strangely enough, chocolate chip cookies. 

Rinsing the cloth out again, Brian tilted Justin’s face up and gently wiped it across the features he knew better than his own.  He could feel the stubble that covered Justin’s jaw, and brushing his thumb across the coarse hair, he made a mental note to bring his shaving kit in tomorrow.  Guiding Justin to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet, he ran a brush through Justin’s messy hair.  As those long strands were brushed into place, Brian realized that he wasn’t alone.  Looking up, he swallowed when he saw Jennifer watching him from the doorway.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, Brian waited for the inevitable explosion as Jennifer entered the room.  She brushed her hand across Justin’s bowed head, and then looked up at Brian.  But the explosion never came; instead, he breathed in the floral scent of her perfume as she slipped her arms around him, and he closed his eyes as she squeezed gently.

“Any change?” she asked when she let him go, and Brian shook his head as he knelt down and guided Justin’s feet into the warm moccasins he had found in Justin’s bag.

“No,” he said finally, as he reached for Justin’s toothbrush and squeezed a dab of minty paste onto the bristles.

Jennifer fell silent as Brian guided Justin to the sink and set about cleaning his teeth for him.  She noticed how patient he was, tilting her son’s face in different directions as he moved the toothbrush over the surface of Justin’s teeth, before he gently pushed Justin’s head towards the sink and rubbed his back as the soapy foam dripped out of Justin’s mouth.  Rubbing his wet fingers across Justin’s teeth to wipe away the remaining foam, Brian then patted the skin of his mouth dry.  It was only when Justin was settled into his chair with a blanket tucked across his legs that Brian finally faced her.

“I don’t blame you for this, Brian,” Jennifer said in the silence that followed.  “I never have.  I know it might not seem like it, but I _do_ learn from my mistakes, and this was no more your fault than Prom was; if I hadn’t blamed you for what happened that night, and made you feel like you couldn’t visit Justin during the day, this might not have happened.  I know that, and I have to live with it.  And while I may have told Debbie to stay away, that was only because of Michael.  I _had_ to protect my son.  But I never blamed _you_ for Justin doing what he did. 

“As time went on, I didn’t know how to tell you what had happened.  Daphne said that it was up to Justin as to whether or not you were told.  We all knew that he had been asking for you when he was drifting in and out of consciousness during those first few days.  But when he eventually woke up, Justin said that he didn’t want you to know.  That he didn’t want to burden you, or worse, have you come back to him out of obligation, the way you had after Prom.”

Brian flinched, and Jennifer shook her head slightly as he sucked his lip into his mouth.

“I know that wasn’t why you took him in, Brian; you have to remember just how far Justin had slipped into his depression by that stage.  The only person he believed in fully was Daphne; it took Ethan and Sam nearly a full month of daily visits while he was hospitalized for Justin to _believe_ that they wanted to be there for him, that they wanted to help him.  That they really were his friends, and they weren’t visiting him out of a sense of guilt or obligation.  And once he did believe them, they turned that friendship into a family of sorts, something that Justin desperately needed; more than he needed me.  

“I blame myself for Justin’s current state,” she continued softly.  “I knew that Justin wouldn’t be happy knowing that his father was interfering in his life again after all this time.  But I never thought he’d shut down the way he has.  I needed to warn him, Brian; I needed to give him _time_ , so that he could rebuild whatever walls he needed to, so that his father couldn’t hurt him any further than he already had.  I didn’t want to think that his state of mind was as fragile as it is.  It would mean admitting that I had failed him again; that I had failed to protect him once more, like I failed him when his father threw him out of the house, and again when Craig refused to pay for Justin’s tuition.”

Jennifer bit her lip and shook her head slightly as she fell silent.  Brian leaned against the window ledge and watched her with a steady gaze; what could he really say?  That she sucked as a mother, and that yes, this was her fault?  Guilt was something that he was on intimate terms with, and he could no more blame Jennifer than he could shake off his own culpability.  Jennifer sank into the chair across from Justin and sighed heavily.

“I blame Craig for his indifference towards our son, and I blame Chris Hobbs for trying to kill him,” she said finally, and Brian jerked before he tilted his head slightly.

“What do you mean by indifference?” he asked quietly, and Jennifer gave a mirthless laugh.

“Debbie once told me that Justin had a good childhood; after all, he grew up with two parents, in a well-to-do neighborhood. He grew up knowing creature comforts, because Craig and I were financially comfortable.  She was quite surprised when I told her that he hadn’t had a good childhood at all.  Do you know why words are so important to Justin?” she asked, but then continued to before Brian could answer.  “Because he never had them when he was at home; instead, he was treated with icy disdain and cold indifference.  He asked me once why his father didn’t love him.”

Jennifer looked towards Brian and managed a sad smile as she watched his eyes flick between her and Justin. 

“He was only nine years old at the time, Brian,” she said softly.  “That was the year that he asked Santa for a man to love; I didn’t realize at the time that he meant a partner – I thought he wanted a father figure, a department that Craig severally lacked in.  I know I coddled Justin over the years, but when you are always at silent war within your own home, you pick the battles you _think_ you can win; Craig never allowed Justin to win any of those small battles.  He constantly belittled our son; according to Craig, Justin was too diminutive, too _inadequate_ to be a _man_.

“Nothing he _ever_ did was good enough for Craig, because Justin wasn’t interested in sports.  Our son thrived on learning and art; he could draw recognizable pictures by the time he was four.  And that talent continued to grow and flourish.  But the drawings that Justin produced were never allowed to be placed on the refrigerator – instead, he hid them in his room after his father tore up one of the pictures he had left on Craig’s desk for his father to look at.

“It didn’t matter to Craig that Justin was at the top of his class at school every year academically.  It didn’t matter that his son could speak both Italian and French fluently by the time he was in his teens.  All that Craig saw was the fact that his son didn’t play football like the sons of his associates at the country club.  He was embarrassed by that, and while he put on a good show in public, in private he continually showed Justin that he would never be good enough by not taking an interest in what his child _was_ good at.   

“Justin told me a long time ago that when he fell in love, he would tell his partner every day how much he was cherished.  He would make sure that his partner, and any children that they had, would know just how much he adored them because he knew what it was like to grow up _knowing_ that he wasn’t loved or wanted.  Justin knew I loved him, but that love never made up for the fact that when his father looked at him, he could never hide his disappointment.” 

Brian swallowed hard as he turned to look at his boy; Justin’s head was bowed, and as he sat there so silently, he recalled Justin telling him that he loved him.  Those softly spoken declarations had fallen silent over time when Brian had refused to return the sentiment, or he had openly scorned the words that Justin had offered him.  Silent and hidden behind a mask until Brian had been reduced to looking for that love in Justin’s eyes when he first woke up. 

“I just don’t know how to help him,” Jennifer said finally, as she reached for Justin’s hand and stroked her fingers across his skin.

Justin’s entire body twitched at her touch, and Jennifer fought back her tears as she slowly withdrew her hand from Justin’s when he grew rigid in his chair. 

“He doesn’t flinch from his friend’s touch,” she said as a single tear slid down over her cheek.  “He doesn’t flinch from yours.  I feel like every involuntary flinch he gives serves as a reminder of the fact that I have let him down so badly; from how I handled things when he came out, to how I reacted when Chris Hobbs tried to kill him.  He’s made his own family now, and I’m on the outside looking in… it makes me wonder how often Justin felt like that… it’s like this is some sort of punishment that a greater power has handed to me to show me that my son might love me, but he doesn’t trust me.  Knowing that?  There is no worse feeling, Brian.”

Wiping away the traces of moisture from her face, Jennifer rose to her feet and brushed her hand gently over Justin’s head, before she turned and walked out of the room.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Brian looked up from the book he held and sighed; Justin was curled up in the armchair, his eyes vacant as he stared out on the twinkling city lights over the parking lot.  Licking his finger, Brian turned the page and shifted his weight slightly before he began to read out loud again.  It was late – later than he usually stayed - but his conversation with Jennifer continued to float across his mind, and it mingled with Ethan’s and Alex’s words and the research he had done when trying to learn about and understand depression.

Feelings of inadequacy; of not being good enough for the people in his life.  Alex had told him that Justin hadn’t really wanted all that much from him.  He hadn’t wanted Brian’s money or his reputation; he had only wanted to be loved, and for Brian to know that Justin loved him in return.  Brian’s voice trailed off mid-sentence, and he swallowed hard as he looked across at Justin’s profile.  Words; words that Justin had needed, but Brian had been unable to articulate – him, a man who sold words for a living.  Would the world really have stopped rotating if he told Justin that he loved him?  Was his reputation really that fucking important anymore? 

Would the pain of learning about missed opportunities and miscommunication ever go away?  If he had asked Justin about Ethan, would this have ever happened?  Or was it preordained that Justin would suffer regardless; and in watching the young man he loved suffer, his own pain and misery were made even more excruciating.  Is this what love was meant to be?  A vicious circle?  He had been too scared to give Justin the power to hurt him, but it hadn’t been Justin who dealt this blow.  It had been his own fear, and his inability to find the words to help the one person who had always supported him unquestioningly.

Shaking his head, Brian resumed reading to Justin.  He had found the well-thumbed copy of _Atonement_ by Ian McEwan* hidden in Justin’s bag a couple of days ago; several pages were dog-eared, and as he read the book out loud, Brian wondered who Justin saw within the characters.  Did he see himself in Robbie?  Accused unfairly of a crime he hadn’t committed?  Persecuted because of jealousy?  Brian sighed; the lesson he was learning from these pages was one he had already learned; there was nothing more dangerous than a lie, and that there was nothing uglier than the truth being revealed.

“ _Briony carried her half-smoked cigarette to the sink.  She was feeling sick.  She took a saucer for an ashtray from the plate rack.  Her sister’s confirmation of her crime was terrible to hear.  But the perspective was unfamiliar.  Weak, stupid, confused, cowardly, evasive - she had hated herself for everything she had been, but she had never thought of herself as a liar.  How strange, and how clear it must seem to Cecilia.  It was obvious, and irrefutable.  And yet, for a moment she even thought of defending herself.  She hadn’t intended to mislead, she hadn’t acted out of malice.  But who would believe that?_ ”

Brian huffed out the sound of bitter laughter – oh, the fucking irony.  He was beginning to hate this fucking book.  Hated that the story showed similarities to his own reality.  God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to turn back time and change it all.  To ask Justin if he was cheating with Ethan, rather than taking Michael’s word for it.  To have not fucked Rage; to have not damaged something deep inside Justin over it.  To have not dragged his lover to the floor, only to use the love, trust, and desire he had seen in Justin’s eyes against the boy.  To have had the fucking courage to say that, yes, he would miss Justin if he was gone. 

Because he did; he missed him to the point that it was a physical ache that he carried with him everywhere he went.  His bed felt too large – too empty, and he woke up reaching for Justin every morning.  His loft echoed with the ghostly sound of Justin’s voice.  Tricking was simply the means to alleviate sexual frustration, and it left him feeling even worse when the act did nothing to satisfy the craving he had for the slim body that he knew so well.  And to know that he had gotten more satisfaction out of washing all that pale skin than having his cock sucked?  Brian shook his head and managed to smile.  He was fucking pathetic, and he damn well knew it.             

Looking towards Justin’s reflection in the window, Brian blinked and then blinked again when he saw those blue eyes staring back at him.  They closed slowly, but when they opened again and refocused on him, Brian slowly put the book down.  Holding that steady gaze, he moved around the armchair to crouch at Justin’s feet.  Dulled over by the fresh blow he had been dealt, Justin still turned his head to look down at him; his lips twisted into a grimace, and Brian reached out to grasp Justin’s hands in his own as he shifted his weight.  Rubbing his thumb firmly over the back of Justin’s hand, Brian managed to push the words out as Justin continued to stare at him.

“You really freaked me out,” he said quietly, and Justin blinked rapidly as his eyes sheened over slightly the memory of Brian saying that to him after Gus’s birthday slithered through his mind.

Brian swallowed hard when he realized that Justin was blinking back tears; rising to his feet, he coaxed Justin to his own.  The blond teetered slightly, but when he seemed steady enough, Brian slowly drew Justin into his arms.  The momentary hesitation Justin showed had Brian squeezing his eyes shut, but then Justin caved in on himself and he curled into Brian’s embrace.  Brian tilted his head back briefly and then wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could as a full body shudder shook Justin’s entire frame.

“Where’d you go?” he whispered as he nudged Justin’s temple gently with his nose to show what he meant, and Justin trembled as he tucked his head under Brian ’s chin.

“I don’t know,” Justin said finally as Brian tucked his hair behind his ear.  “How… how many days have I lost?”

Brian closed his eyes and shivered.

“Three days,” he said finally.  “You’ve been gone for three days.”

Justin nodded; Brian could feel the damp spot growing against his collarbone, and he smoothed his hand over the back of Justin’s head gently, before turning his face and pressing his mouth against the soft blond hair under his lips.

“I… I can’t _do_ this, Brian… I can’t…”              

Shifting his weight, Brian pulled Justin tighter against his body as the broken whisper floated up between them; skimming his hand down Justin’s back, he spoke quietly.

“You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for, Justin; don’t let Craig, or anyone else, put doubt in your mind now.”

Justin shook his head, and when he pressed closer to Brian’s body, seeking warmth and comfort, Brian pressed his mouth against Justin’s head once more, the burning in his eyes threatening to send tears spilling down his face as Justin spoke again.

“I’m tired of always having to be strong, Brian.  I’m just so fucking tired…”

Tilting his head up, Justin finally looked up at Brian; pain-smeared blue eyes and those gold-tipped lashes were slightly darker and stuck together from the tears he had hidden.  But his voice didn’t waver when he spoke, even though it barely raised above a whisper.

“Why are you here?”

Cupping Justin’s face briefly as he wiped away the moisture clinging to those lashes, Brian shrugged.

“You’re here,” he said finally.  “Where else would I be?”

Justin’s eyebrows drew together briefly before a sad smile curved his lips as he closed his eyes again and tucked his head back under Brian’s chin.

“You wear Prada better than this season’s line of guilt, Brian.”

Brian felt his face crease when Justin’s soft words reached his ears, and he smoothed his hands across Justin’s back so that he could curve them around the blond’s shoulders and force him back a step.  Dropping his head slightly, Brian looked down into those pretty, blue eyes and spoke firmly.

“1500 on your SATs, Justin; tell me what venerate means.”

Justin’s lips pressed tightly together, and he shook his head slightly as Brian stared down at him.

“Tell me,” Brian implored quietly, and when Justin looked away with a jerk of his shoulder, Brian drew him back into his arms and pressed his mouth lightly against the side of Justin’s head as he closed his eyes.

“Admired.  Valued.  Thought highly of.  Respected.  Held sacred.”

Brian swallowed as he finished murmuring the words against Justin’s hair.  Opening his eyes, he tilted his chin and looked down at the blond head that was resting against his chest, before turning his eyes towards the window.  He could see Justin’s face in the reflection; he could see the expressive eyes and the way that Justin’s hands kept twitching where they were lightly pressed against Brian’s stomach.  Meeting that troubled gaze, Brian licked his lips and then spoke quietly.

“Where else would I be?” 

Justin’s lips twitched, and he lowered his eyes slightly. “You care for all of your friends, Brian,” he muttered, and Brian grasped Justin’s chin firmly and turned those tormented eyes up to meet his own.

“Tell me another word to use then, Justin, to explain how I feel about _you_ ,” Brian managed, and if it sounded like the words were choking him as they spilled out of his mouth, he was past caring.  “I’ve been trying to figure it out… what is it going to take for you to believe me?  Tell me what word you want me to use, and I’ll use it.”

Justin’s eyes flicked back and forth across Brian’s face; the confusion he felt was more than apparent, and as he flicked the tip of his tongue across his lower lip, Brian felt his own eyes flutter shut momentarily, and he tightened his grip on Justin’s chin before he bent his head to press his mouth against those soft, pillowy lips.  A hint.  A hint of warmth, and moisture, and the flavor and texture of the mouth he had missed so much.  A mere taste was all he got before Justin’s hands pushed firmly against his stomach, and the blond turned his head.  Milliseconds… and his fucking knees shook.  

“Don’t.”

It was a whispered plea.  Plain and simple.  And it broke his heart.  Brian closed his eyes as he took a steadying breath before he finally nodded.    

“At your pace, Justin,” he said finally, and when Justin tilted his head slightly to peer up at him, Brian managed to smile.  “I told you… I’ll take whatever you can give me.”

Justin stared up at him for a silent moment, before he shook his head.

“I gave you everything once, Brian.  I’ve got nothing left to give.”

Brian smiled slightly as he carded his fingers through Justin’s hair, and when he spoke, it was with quiet conviction.

“Your friendship, Justin.  I’d like to earn it.  I’d like to show you that you _can_ trust me; that you can trust me to keep your father away from you.”

Justin’s eyes widened slightly, and Brian smiled again.

“It’s called a restraining order, Sunshine.  And if that doesn’t work?  You threaten to sue him for disownment; in many legal systems, it is considered a form of child abandonment and is against the law.  There are ways around having to face that prick.  But if you decide that you _do_ want to confront him?  I will be there in that room with you; you won’t have to face him alone.”

Justin’s lips parted in surprise, and when his lashes fluttered briefly, Brian simply drew him back into his arms.  They stood there in silence for several minutes; Justin with his hands pressed lightly against Brian’s chest, and Brian with his arms wrapped firmly around that slim body.  But when Justin swayed on his feet, Brian turned towards the bed and gently guided him across the room and down into his nest of blankets. 

Straightening the blankets out, Brian brushed his hand through Justin’s hair as his boy stared up at him with tired eyes.  He remained silent as Brian walked around the end of the bed to pull the guardrail up on one side of Justin’s bed.  But when he came back around and eased himself down beside Justin in the narrow bed on top of the blankets, Justin’s voice echoed between them.

“What are you doing?”

Slipping his arm under Justin’s neck, Brian hushed him as he drew Justin into his arms.  Brushing his lips across Justin’s forehead, Brian finally spoke.

“I’m keeping the monsters away.”

Justin huffed softly after a minute, and Brian smiled.  It was something that Justin had said when Brian had found him sleeping with Gus and he had asked his blond why he had held Gus while he slept.  Justin finally sighed, and as he sank down into the loose embrace Brian had him in, he spoke quietly.

“There are a lot of monsters in my head, Brian.  You can’t fight them all.”

Brian nodded as he turned his head slightly and breathed in against Justin’s hair. 

“Maybe I can’t,” he said finally.  “But maybe I can help fight _some_.  Maybe we can fight them together.  Will you ever invite me to come to therapy with you?”

Justin snorted softly, and he peered up at Brian with a raised eyebrow.

“You… willingly to _talk_ , Brian?” he asked softly, and then shook his head.

“That’s what your _friends_ do in therapy, isn’t it?” Brian asked with a raised eyebrow of his own.

Justin shrugged, and Brian bit back a sigh as Justin’s warmth seeped into his body.  Closing his eyes, he smiled when he felt the jaw-cracking yawn that escaped Justin’s mouth, and he brushed his lips across Justin’s forehead again.

“Sleep,” he whispered.  “Tomorrow is a brand-new day, Sunshine.”

Justin merely nodded; for the next hour, Brian savored the fact that he was holding Justin in his arms again.  That his boy was letting him hold him; letting him card his fingers through all that soft, blond hair.  That he was hearing the soft, kitten snores that eventually began to echo between them when Justin finally went limp in his arms.  Tilting his head slightly, he stared down at the sleep-flushed face that was resting against his shoulder.

Easing himself out of Justin’s bed, Brian tucked Justin’s hair behind his ear; leaning down, he pressed his lips against the corner of Justin’s mouth, and then sighed as he pulled the blankets up around Justin’s nose the way he liked them.  Justin immediately wriggled further under his blankets, so that all that poked out were long strands of blond hair.  Brian grinned at the familiar action, and then carefully pulled the other guardrail up so that Justin wouldn’t fall out of bed.

Justin was stronger than he thought – than any of them had ever thought.  He had fought his way out of the darkness himself.  His bravery continued to amaze Brian; as that thought crossed his mind, Brian nodded slowly to himself.  Maybe he should take a page out of Justin’s book, and learn to be brave himself.  That way, if Justin ever trusted him again, if his lost youth returned to his side where he belonged, then he wouldn’t be scared to tell him how much he loved him.  And maybe, just maybe, he would hear Justin say it in return.        

*Atonement by Ian McEwan. I don’t own the rights to this book.  No copyright infringement is intended.


	25. Chapter 25

25.

Justin’s focus was absolute as he shoved his clothes into his bag.  Against Alex’s advice, he had checked himself out of the unit.  When he had told Alex that he was going home, the other man had looked at him like he had grown a second head before he had reminded Justin that it hadn’t even been a week since he had come out of the dissociative state he had been in.  Justin had been ready for that, and his resulting argument had been well thought out and articulated.  He had voluntarily entered the unit – they couldn’t keep him there.  He was going home.

It was time that he took his life back; he had been floundering for too long.  And while he had zero recollection of the time he had lost, he had a more precise picture in his head than he had possessed before he had lost those three days.  He _knew_ who he was; Justin Taylor.  Nineteen years old.  An art student at PIFA.  Gay.  The rest of the working images he had were still scattered in pieces – the people in his life and everything that went with them.  But the foundation was rock solid.  He could rebuild his life on that.

Justin smiled grimly as he shoved a pair of dirty socks into his bag.  Part of taking his life back had included calling his mother and telling her that he was okay.  Before Jennifer could draw breath to speak, Justin had continued to talk.  While he was okay, he was majorly pissed off.  Not so much at her – but at his father.  Craig had tried visiting him at the unit the day after he had resurfaced from the depths of his mind, only to have his way barred by the staff after Justin had made his wishes known. 

Justin had told his mom that his father hadn’t had a legal leg to stand on when he had threatened Justin, and indirectly Jennifer and Molly, with a court order; but Justin did have a legal leg to stand on.  Two of them, actually, and they looked awesome when they were clad in dove gray, pinstriped pants.  Two days after he had woken up, a single phone call resulted in Mel coming to see him.  She had been all business as she laid out his options for him in terms that he could understand; if his father continued to push him, she’d wrap him up in legal tape and choke the life out of the bastard.

That meeting had taken place in Alex’s office; after explaining his legal options to him and saying that she would look into things further with a work colleague, she had slipped her paperwork into her briefcase.  But when she went to stand up, Justin had taken a deep breath and asked her if she had a little more time to talk.  Mel hadn’t used words; she had merely set her briefcase down, unbuttoned the suit jacket she wore, and settled herself back down onto the couch with an open look on her face.   Unprepared for it, Justin’s mouth had opened and closed several times before Mel took pity on him and started to speak herself. 

She told Justin about everything that had happened from her point of view; from learning about his suicide attempt, right up to this very second in time.  How she had reacted, and how Lindsay had responded.  What that attempt had done to their relationship, and the talks they had had; the fears they had put to rest.  Mel had shifted her weight slightly before shrugging, revealing that Brian had spent more time in their house with Gus over the last two and a half months than he had during the previous two years.

In her unflinchingly honest way, Mel had spoken about the new Brian Kinney.  And when Justin had remained silent, she had hesitantly told him about Brian’s reaction to his attempt.  About the half-truths and lies that had come to light after Brian had been told what had happened, and his relentless pursuit of the answers he needed to make sense of it all.  About the distance he maintained, from both Michael and Lindsay, in the face of their part in the downfall of his relationship with Justin, and the friendship that had developed between Brian, Emmett, and Ted.

Mel had looked down at her hands in the end, and then she spoke about the fact that she had somehow been shifted into Lindsay’s role; the role of the only female that Brian Kinney seemed to trust when it came to Justin.  She had already known about what Craig had tried to do, because Brian had come to see her the day that Justin had disassociated himself with the world.  He had knocked on their door at nine o’clock at night, looking shell-shocked.  Seated in the front of the jeep together, Brian had told her what had happened.

Mel had kept her eyes on her lap as she described how Brian had maintained a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel the entire time he had explained what was going on.  It was after that painful conversation that he had asked her what Justin’s legal options were.  Brian had never considered that Justin might remain locked in his head; he had told Mel that he wanted to be able to present him with solid choices regarding his father when he came back.  Not if.  _When_. 

Mel had fallen silent after that, and when she eventually asked Justin if he had any questions that he wanted to ask, he had been unable to help himself.  He had asked her why she had turned away from him that ill-fated morning in the diner.  She had sighed before saying that she had thought long and hard about the answer to that question.  Unlike the others he had spoken to, she didn’t use not knowing about Sam as an excuse; she had simply wanted to give Justin a chance with Ethan – she had wanted him to know what it felt like to be loved openly by someone outside of their fucked up little family. 

Mel had managed to smile before speaking again; she had missed meeting up with Justin at the diner by mere minutes the second day after he had left Babylon.  The third day she had been in court all day and had been unable to get away.  The fourth day?  She had arrived at the diner, only to learn that Justin had quit mid-shift and that he had walked out.  She had tried calling him then, only to get his voicemail.  She had left him several messages, and then his cell had been disconnected.  Mere minutes… she had wanted to talk to him face-to-face, rather than over the phone.

To see the tears that rolled silently down her face had hurt him; hurt him enough that when Mel shifted on the couch to wipe those crystal drops away with an impatient hand, Justin had been helpless to do anything but cross the room and slide into the arms that she held open to him.  They had remained that way for some time; Mel had eventually lifted her head from Justin’s shoulder and had looked him in the eye before she apologized and asked him to forgive her. 

Justin had lost the battle with his own tears then; he had cried silently on her shoulder as Mel asked him that didn’t he know how special he was to her?  Didn’t he know that he was the one man she loved without reservation, and would do anything for without question?  She would be the first one standing there with a shovel if he needed help hiding his father’s body; she would have to offer him legal counsel as they dug a grave rather than in the comfort of her office, however.  That whispered confession had teased startled laughter out of Justin, and Mel had smiled up at him as she gently wiped away that tears that dampened his skin. 

She left that impromptu therapy session with Justin’s new cell number stored in her phone, and the feeling of his lips whispering his own hesitant apologies against her cheek.  The look she had shot him had told Justin that his apologies were unneeded, as did the gentle press of her lips against his forehead.  But when she whispered, ‘I love you,’ something that had been churning deep inside of him since she had entered Alex’s office stilled.  Mel had tilted her head back slightly so that they could look into each other’s eyes before she had repeated it firmly, in a voice that broke no argument.    

After Mel had left, he had thought long and hard about his options.  A few days later, he promised Alex that he would resume his therapy sessions, both those on his own, and those in the group, but he was going home.  He would see his nutritionist once a week for his weigh-ins, and he would continue to heal his body along with his mind.  But to heal his mind, he had to take back his life, and try to reassemble it on his own. 

He had to return to school and he had to look for a new job; working nights lined his pockets, but they also left him with too much time on his hands between customers, and that was dangerous to the life he was trying to rebuild.  It left him alone with his thoughts, and while those thoughts were a lot more stable due to the cocktail of drugs he was on, he didn’t want to risk backsliding into the pit he had clawed his way out of.  

Alex had made him promise that he would call him every day, and Justin had shown sheer fortitude when he had said that he would do him one better – if Alex was willing to work around his hours, he’d continue his daily therapy for the next month to prove that he was getting better.  He would check in with the man by phone if they were unable to meet up, and he would start writing the daily log about his emotions that Alex had been asking him to write for at least the past six months.

Justin paused as that stray thought ran though his mind like a strung-out crystal addict.  Six months… he had been living with this for nearly six months.  He had been living without… Justin shook his head to clear it, but the thought still slithered across his brain.  He’d been living without Brian for six months.  And the pain of leaving him was still as fresh as it had been all those months ago.  It was like someone had dragged a blunt knife through his heart, and it had left behind a jagged wound that continued to bleed.               

Shaking his head as he came out of his memories, Justin headed into the bathroom to collect his toiletries.  He picked up his deodorant and then paused; looking at himself in the mirror, Justin took a steadying breath.  While he had no recollection of the time he had lost, what he _did_ have was friends.  Ethan and Daphne had told him what Brian had done while he had been lost in the darkness of his mind.  The man had fed him and washed him; had read aloud to him nightly before putting him to bed.  Justin didn’t like how that knowledge made him feel – while Brian hadn’t treated him like he was a child who needed looking after, Justin was left feeling like one, and that wasn’t a feeling he appreciated. 

Turning away from the bathroom with an unhappy sound, Justin crossed the room to tuck his things into his bag.  That was part of the reason he needed to take back the control of his life; he had never felt like an equal when he was living with Brian, and the shift in what remained of whatever the fuck they had unsettled him.  Brian had said many times that he wanted to be friends with him, but you don’t fuck your friends.  You don’t kiss them, or hold them, even though that was what he did with Daphne, Ethan, and Sam.  Honesty… he had promised Alex honesty.  So how was he supposed to be friends with Brian when he was still in love with him?

It hurt to be around him; to look at the man he loved with every fiber of his being and _know_ that Brian didn’t want that type of relationship with him.  Oh, Brian wanted his ass; he just didn’t want the love that Justin had so freely offered him.  Zipping his bag shut, he took another deep breath.  As he slowly exhaled, Justin nodded slightly.  To get better – to really get better – he would have to try to reconstruct the rest of his life.  If that meant being friends with Brian, then he would take the love he felt for the man, and he would bury it the way he had buried his pain.  He would hide it away until it faded.  It was the only way he would survive watching Brian get on with his life, while he was still reeling from the pain of what he had lost.

Justin had known they were ending long before Babylon and Rage.  He had told Alex that he had no longer been able to make Brian happy, and that was the truth.  Finding wet cum stains on the sheets had told him all he’d needed to know; he couldn’t keep Brian satisfied.  It was why he had taken to facing away from Brian during sex in the last few weeks he had lived with him.  His face had been an open book, and he had had to learn how to hide the love that Brian had so openly scorned.

Brian had said that he hadn’t known about Sam, but all that did was tell him that Brian had been looking for any kind of excuse to end their… whatever it was, and Michael had cheerfully handed it to him on a silver platter when he had seen him with Ethan.  Brian hadn’t respected him enough to ask him what was going on – he had taken Michael’s word over any defense that he might have launched, and that had it been it.  They were done.  Over.  And from what Justin had heard, he had barely walked out of Babylon before Brian had gone back to the way things had been before he had met him. 

He couldn’t have torn Justin’s heart out any more effectively than he did when he had fucked Rage.  If the multiple tricks weren’t message enough; if pissing all over his art wasn’t message enough… if stomping all over any offer of love that Justin had once offered him wasn’t message enough, then Justin didn’t know what else was.  It was his own fault; everyone had warned him, Brian included, that the man didn’t do love or relationships.  He believed in fucking.  He hadn’t believed in Justin.  He might have cared about Justin on some level, but he hadn’t loved him.   

Picking his jacket up, Justin slowly pulled it on as he chewed the edge of his lip.  He’d become an expert at hiding the love he felt for Brian, and he would continue to do so as he sorted his life out.  Sam had been right; perhaps leaving Pittsburgh was something that he should do.  He could start over somewhere else; he could be Justin Taylor, instead of the twink who lived.  He could learn who Justin Taylor was, without the stigma of being Brian Kinney’s fuck toy following him around.

He would learn to live again.  Maybe one day he would find a man who would give him respect; he wouldn’t ask for that man’s love, not when he knew that he’d love Brian for the rest of his life.  But maybe he could learn to be content.  Happy, even.  He would never give his heart away again, however.  That useless organ would be tucked away behind an impenetrable wall, because one thing being with Brian had taught him was that love didn’t exist.  Not the type of love Justin had dreamed about when he was a kid.  Not the kind of love he had wished for every night before he closed his eyes.  Not the kind of love he had wanted from Brian _._

It wasn’t Brian’s fault that he had been such a dreamy-eyed schoolboy; that boy, however, was dead now.  He had been dying since the whisper of a bat swinging through the air had foretold his demise in that darkened garage.  He had taken his last gasping breaths when Justin had swallowed the sleeping pills in his hand after realizing that he would never be enough to make Brian happy.  He had finally died, when Justin had opened his eyes in this very room and realized that he had failed in trying to make his pain stop, just like he had failed in so many other areas of his life.

Justin picked his bag up and glanced around the room before he nodded again.  That was what he would do; he would get better.  Stronger.  He would find out about a transfer while he finished out his final months at school, and then he would leave.  New York.  California.  Fucking Timbuktu.  Anywhere had to be better than here, where he was haunted by just how fucked up his life was.  He would be, God help him, Brian’s _friend_ ; he owed the man that much.  But when Brian learned that he didn’t have anything else to offer him… when he realized that Justin was no longer the pretty, little twink who bent over for him like a trained fucking monkey – then maybe Brian would finally give up the notion that they could be friends and let him go.           

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Brian leaned against the hood of the jeep and balanced a cigarette between his teeth; he patted his pockets as he searched for his lighter, grunting when he finally found it and was able to light his cigarette.  It was amazing what could be carried out in three hours.  Alex’s first phone call had been to Daphne.  His second had been to Brian.  And within twenty minutes of Justin declaring that he was checking himself out of the unit, an emergency meeting of the people in his life had taken place at the diner.  Roles were handed out in quick succession by Alex via phone; while he couldn’t keep Justin in the hospital, he could and did micromanage everything about the boy’s release down to the minute.

Plans were put in place, with contingencies should any of those plans fail.  Brian smiled grimly as the memory of telling an unconscious Justin in Alex’s office that he didn’t know what stalking was rose in his mind; the blond wouldn’t be able to turn around without tripping over one of them.  His smile faded slightly, though, as he recalled Daphne asking him for a lift home at the end of that meeting and the look that had passed between her and Ethan before the musician had slid into his boyfriend’s car with a grin and a shake of his curly head. 

The conversation they had had on the trip to Daphne’s had reminded Brian that he was still very much on Daphne’s shit list and would remain there, despite her willingness to work with him.  While she hadn’t raised her voice, the ice that had spilled from her lips had damn near frozen his balls off.  She had spoken plainly; she didn’t trust him, and she wished that Justin had never met him.  But if working with him meant that Justin got better, then she was willing to play nicely with him.

Brian had snarled when he had asked her when she had become Justin’s warden, and Daphne had smiled sweetly before saying that it was the day that Justin had tried killing himself.  It was when she had been forced to make the decision to have Justin locked in the unit for three weeks, and had had to sign the paperwork, while hoping that he would fucking survive trying to kill himself.  It was while she had sat there and listened as Justin tore himself apart and blamed himself for everything that had gone so wrong in his relationship with Brian.  It was as she searched the eyes of the boy she knew better than anyone and found herself staring into the eyes of a stranger.

That had caused any rebuttal that Brian might have tried to make wither under the truth of her words.  Daphne had smiled coldly, before she spoke again. 

_“I’m not the sweet, little schoolgirl who you told was hot at her Prom, Brian.  I’m the one who had to pick up the pieces when you threw Justin off your stupid fucking cliff, because you were too scared to tell him that you cared about him.  I know you… I was **there** , remember?  And unless you can be the man that you showed to Justin that night, don’t bother trying to work things out with him.  You’ve already broken his heart once.  I don’t trust that you won’t break it again.”_

Inhaling deeply, Brian blew out a steady stream of smoke as he recalled what Daphne had said to him.  Everyone else had said that thy didn’t blame him, but Brian knew, deep inside, that Daphne _did_ blame him, at least partially, for what Justin had tried to do.  Jennifer had told him that Justin had grown up with a lack of indifference shown to him by his father; when he had mentioned it to Alex, he had murmured that things were suddenly a lot clearer to him now. 

When Brian had asked what he meant, Alex had shrugged slightly before saying that Justin wasn’t only suffering from touch deprivation.  He had also been deprived of love for most of his life, and it was no wonder he now questioned why his friends wanted to be there for him.  At the puzzled look Brian gave him, Alex had explained that psychological abuse left deeper scars than the ones left behind by fists, and that it was no wonder Justin needed actual words when his father’s actions had shown him nothing but disinterest.

Action vs words.  Cause and effect.  Brian sighed softly as he finished his cigarette and flicked the butt away; maybe if he swallowed a fucking thesaurus he’d be better equipped to learn how to express his own feelings, let alone the multitude of emotions that Justin evoked within him.  He didn’t like the fact that Justin had checked himself out of the unit; fear and doubt had sent his boy fleeing before he was truly ready, but unlike before, Brian now knew where to find him.  That was the only good thing to come out of that meeting; at least he now knew where Justin lived. 

And as he caught sight of the familiar head of blond hair threading his way through the cars towards the main road so he could catch the bus, Brian called out his name.  Justin stopped when he saw Brian; bewilderment spread across his face, and Brian forced his lips to curve into a small smile as he strolled towards the blond.  Plucking Justin’s bag out of his fingers, Brian peered at him over the top of his glasses briefly before he turned back towards the jeep.  He had taken a few steps before he glanced over his shoulder.  Justin was still standing where Brian had left him; uncertainty played across his face in crystal clarity, and Brian moistened his lips before he spoke lightly.

“Are you coming?”

Justin shook his head slightly before he finally followed Brian towards the jeep.  Placing the bag in the backseat, Brian waited until Justin had closed the door before he looked over at him.  Justin’s eyes were trained on his lap, and when Brian cleared his throat, Justin hesitantly looked towards him.

“Seatbelt, Sunshine,” Brian said gently, and Justin nodded as he tugged the belt into place.

Brian allowed the silence to linger between them as he pulled out of the parking lot and merged with the traffic.  Justin was picking at a hole on the inner thigh of his jeans, and Brian shifted in his seat when he continued to receive tantalizing glimpses of creamy skin.

“How…?”

Justin fell silent and his lips pressed together as Brian glanced towards him, and Brian laughed softly.

“How’d I know you were planning on a jailbreak?” he surmised wryly, and when Justin nodded, Brian revealed, “I believe you got all of three steps out of Alex’s office before he rang Daphne.”  Brian did a quick head check before changing lanes.  “Then he rang _me_.”

Justin snorted as he looked out the passenger window, but Brian could see the tension in his fingers as he continued to tug at the worn strands of denim that were stretched across his thigh.  Sighing softly, Brian dropped his cheerful attitude and spoke plainly.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Justin?” he asked quietly, and Justin shrugged.

“I’ll never know unless I try,” he mumbled as he raised his thumb to his mouth, and Brian fell silent.

Justin chewing on his thumbnail was a clear indicator that he was upset and unwilling to talk.  They completed the journey in silence, but when Brian pulled up outside Justin’s apartment building, he glanced at Brian with a raised eyebrow.  Brian felt the edge of his mouth lift into a crooked smile and he shrugged before he climbed out of the car and reached into the backseat for Justin’s bag.  But when Justin held his hand out, Brian merely lifted his own eyebrow before gesturing towards the front door of the apartment.

Justin took a few steps and then faltered as he looked back towards Brian, who felt his heart clench tightly when he realized why Justin was hesitating.  This was Justin’s home; the first place he had felt was his since his father had kicked him out of their home.  His safe place.  Walking towards him, Brian slipped his hand around the back of Justin’s neck and squeezed lightly.  Justin nibbled on the corner of his lip slightly before he finally turned and walked into the building without comment.

Brian kept his face carefully neutral as he followed Justin up to the fourth floor and down the dimly lit hallway.  He never commented on the fact that the color of the walls looked like cottage cheese, nor did he screw his face up as the smell of mildew teased his nose.  He was barely able to bite back the snarl that wanted to escape, however, when Justin took his keys out and he had to unlock three separate locks before the door to Apartment 4B opened. 

But his jaw did drop when he walked into the place Justin called home, and he swallowed as a fresh wave of pain washed over him when he recalled Jennifer telling him that Justin had never been allowed to display his art while he was living with Craig.  Justin had never shown his art at the loft, either; it had always been on his desk, or tucked safely into his portfolio.  Brian winced as he stared at the room.  The one time Justin _had_ displayed his art, Brian had pissed all over it in a fit of jealousy and rage.

But here in this room, Justin’s art covered nearly every wall.  Two large paintings dominated the space, with sketches clustered together to depict vastly different scenes from those in the paintings.  The loft had always been a showcase of Brian’s expensive taste; a direct reflection of the man who lived there.  But the only time the loft had felt like a home was when Justin’s laughter had reverberated across the space.  Now it felt like a tomb; a place that echoed with memories and ghosts.   

Brian could see Justin in every inch of this room, however.  From the comfortable-looking couch, to the textured throw pillows and scented candles.  The room was an explosion of color and a melding of personalities; it was warm and inviting, and as Brian took in differences between here and the loft, he watched Justin kick his shoes off and then shrug out of his coat.  Tossing it over the end of the couch, Brian had to force himself to keep breathing upon hearing the simple, absolute truth in Justin’s next words:

“Daph?  I’m home.”

A squeal echoed down the corridor that ran off the living room, and Brian watched as Daphne bounced down the hallway and straight into Justin’s open arms.  Justin’s low laughter echoed as Daphne scattered kisses across his face before she glared at him mockingly, cupping his face in her hands in such a way that Justin’s lips pursed outwards into a pout.

“Give a girl a little more warning, okay?” she demanded as she dropped another kiss on his lips before slipping out of his arms and peering over at Brian.  He could see the doubt in her eyes until she took a deep breath and her expression softened as she nodded at him in greeting.

“Do you want a coffee?” she finally asked, and Brian managed to push his thoughts away and nod as he handed Justin’s bag to him when he reached for it.

Justin took it from him without comment, and then headed down the hallway that Daphne had come from.  Looking towards her, Brian watched as she opened a cupboard and took out a jar of coffee before he turned and followed the path that Justin had taken.  Stopping in front of an open door, Brian had to bite his tongue to stop the moan that wanted to spill from his lips.  Justin had dropped his bag onto the double bed that was shoved against one wall, and as Brian watched him he tossed his keys and wallet into a glazed bowl that sat on top of the stacked milk crates that served as his bedside table.

Justin unzipped his bag and started sorting through his clothes, and Brian bit his lip as Justin pulled clean socks out of his bag and tucked them into one of the crates.  His underwear went into the other one, and Brian managed to silently applaud the ingenuity of turning the two stacked crates into functioning furniture with nothing more than a piece of plywood sitting on top.  It was either applaud or scream.  And as Justin continued to unpack, Brian quickly ran his eyes over the rest of the cramped space.  A chest of drawers was pushed up against another wall, and Justin’s books for school were stacked haphazardly on top of the shabby surface.  His portfolio was resting against the wall near the window, which was covered with a thick blanket hung over a tension rod at the top. 

There was another stack of milk crates along the remaining wall; five crates high, and three crates wide, Justin had turned the gray plastic squares into a storage unit for his shoes and his art supplies.  The room was spartan; not a single Italian line in sight.  Yet everything in the room said that Justin had gotten the item by himself.  That when he had had nothing more to his name other than the clothes in his bag, he had taken the room and had turned it into his sanctuary.  A place that was just his; a place from which no one could banish him.

Backing away from the room silently, Brian returned to the main room; he took the mug that Daphne held out to him without comment and drifted towards the paintings.  Staring up at one of Daphne silently, Brian took in the details that Justin had worked into the painting; from the stethoscope that was tucked into her coat pocket, to the diploma that she grasped in her hand.  But when Daphne came to stand beside him, Brian tensed; her voice had warmed slightly, however, since the last time they had spoken as she sipped her own coffee and then gestured with the mug. 

“It took Justin nearly two months to paint that; he gave it to me for my birthday and told me that it was how he saw me.  The child he had known, and the adult that I would eventually become.  I told him that I was already an adult, but he disagreed.  He said that we were both a work in progress.  That nothing was set in stone, and that he was grateful for that, because the reality he currently found himself in sucked.  I asked him what he meant by that, and he said that he had grown up wanting nothing more than to be a computer animator.  Yet here he was in college, suffering through a painting class that he hated, because the _adults_ in his life had decided that _they_ knew what was best for him. 

“Painting like this?  It hurts him, trying to control the tremors in his hand long enough to add in the fine detail.  He wouldn’t get those tremors if he was working on a computer, but you can’t produce a physical painting on canvas that way.  He said that when he changed classes at the end of this year, he wouldn’t listen to the people in his life who lacked the talent to do what he does.  He told me he would stick to his convictions and focus on animation.”

Daphne took another sip of coffee and then glanced at Brian.

“The thing that I’ve always admired the most about Justin is that he _knows_ who he is.  He’s not some empty-headed toy, who needs a man in his life to fulfill him.  What he needs is a partner who _supports_ him unquestioningly.  One that won’t look at what _they_ perceived to be the bigger picture, and then make decisions about his life based on what _they_ think is best for him.  A partner that would tell him that he looked fucking fabulous, even if he decided that running around in a pink tutu meant furthering his education and career.”

“I DO support his art, Daphne,” Brian said in a low voice, trying not to take offense at her words.  

Daphne took another sip of her coffee before responding.  “I know; but tell me, Brian – what would you do if an article appeared in some art magazine, claiming that Justin could be the next Andy Warhol?  Would you respect him enough to decide what to do with that proclamation?  Or would you force his hand?”

Looking down at her, Brian’s confusion must have been clear, because Daphne smiled thinly.

“If he said that staying in the Pitts, surrounded by his family and friends was what he wanted, would you respect his opinion and his wishes?  Or would you force him out of your life and onto the first bus to New York, because _you_ had decided that was the only place for talented artists to succeed?”

Brian’s lips parted slightly with a wheeze, and Daphne shook her head.

“Justin doesn’t need much, Brian.  What he _does_ need, more than anything else, is respect.  Respect that he knows his own mind and can make his own decisions based on what he feels is best for _him_.  Be it his art or checking out of the unit…it must be _his_ decision, Brian.  Not a manipulation or a _humiliation_ designed to leave him with no choice.”

Daphne turned away from the painting, pausing slightly before she peered up at Brian.

“I don’t trust people easily when it comes to Justin, Brian; don’t make me regret giving you this chance.  Don’t make me regret listening to Ethan when he said you deserved another opportunity to make things right.  Because if you fuck it up again?  I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that _you_ regret it, too.”

Brian nodded with wide eyes as Daphne gave him a closed-lip smile and slipped into the kitchen.  Brian looked back up at the painting.  Staring at it, he almost flinched when Justin appeared by his side.  Glancing down at him, Brian licked his dry lips before he spoke.

“What now, Sunshine?”

Justin remained silent as Brian continued to look at him before he finally sighed.

“I want to look at the newspapers and online for a new job.”

A germ of an idea formed, and as Justin shoved his hand through his hair, Brian gestured back towards the painting.

“Have you thought about interning?”

When Justin glanced back up at him, Brian swallowed hard and then spoke quickly.

“I know you want to do animation; if you looked into an internship with, say… an ad agency, you could put that practical experience towards credits with your education.  The pay’s not great, but it would at least give you some form of money, and if you freelanced as well, that could cushion the monetary loss.” 

Justin nodded slowly, and when he looked back up at Brian, a small smile crossed his lips.  But even as those lips curved, Brian could see that it didn’t reach Justin’s eyes.

“So, this is you being my friend…and friends help each other…don’t they?”

Brian nodded warily, and when Justin smiled again, Brian let out an unsteady breath as Justin looked up at the painting he had done.

“That’s a clever idea, Brian.  Thanks.  I’ll look into it.”

It wouldn’t be until later that Brian realized that the idea of being friends with him had hurt Justin; and perhaps he was reading too much into it, but the thought that Justin might still want more than just his friendship gave him hope.  He would talk to Gardner; hopefully, he’d be able to show Justin that having him in his life was a good thing; that if Justin could let go of his reservations and trust him, that it was a step forward in the right direction to sorting out the tattered remains of their relationship.   


	26. Chapter 26

26.

Gardner Vance was a remarkably busy man; you didn’t learn to run with the big dogs by sitting on your ass, and he had trained under one of the most ruthless men in the business when he had been younger and still living in London.  His personal assistant had been with him for the ten years that he had owned Vanguard; he knew that he couldn’t organize his schedule as meticulously as Lorrie did, and made sure that it was reflected in her yearly bonus.

He expected perfection from his staff and could make even the most senior of artists quake in their boots if his requests weren’t met.  When he had taken over the Ryder agency, he had culled most of the staff; they had been lazy and complacent in their roles, something that Gardner had no need for.  But then the young hot shot had sat down across from him.  Full of piss and vinegar, Gardner had disliked Brian Kinney on sight. 

His reputation proceeded the man through Gardner’s door; he had heard the rumors about Brian Kinney.  About a man who did whatever it took to get the client to sign; who worked hard, often arriving before anybody else, and more often than not, was still working long after everyone else had left for the night.  And while Gardner appreciated Brian’s work ethic, what he didn’t like was the ugliness of the sexual harassment suit that had left a dark cloud over the Ryder agency.  

But Brian had met Gardner’s demands; signing Brown Athletics had forced Gardner to make Brian a partner in his business.  It was a decision that he hadn’t regretted, however.  And as time went on, the one thing he _did_ regret was listening to the rumors about Brian Kinney, instead of meeting the man with an open mind.  Perhaps if he had done that, he wouldn’t be in the position he was in now.

Lorrie had let Gardner know that Brian had requested a meeting with him two days ago; what proceeded the meeting, however, was a single file.  The presentation in the file was as meticulous as the man who had written it up.  Well thought out and clear in its intent, the presentation held facts, including costs Vs. business growth, and Gardner could all but smell the desperation that rose from the paper as he stared down at the file.

Closing the manila folder slowly, Gardner sat back in his chair and blew out a quiet breath.  No, he hadn’t liked Brian Kinney initially for the simple reason that he had reminded Gardner of himself in some ways.  Not his sexual orientation, but the layer of ruthlessness that the man wore like he did his Armani.  He was a hard worker, and his temper was legendary when his direction wasn’t followed.  He was arrogant, dominant, and a text book, Type A personality.

Six months ago, however, something had happened; Brian changed.  It had been subtle; he worked harder, travelled more, and threatened the art department staff with dire consequences when his expectations weren’t met.  He brought in more clients over the next three months than all the other senior staff combined.  His clients sang his praises, and the art department trembled whenever one of Brian’s campaigns crossed their desks.  His demands were met and followed, yet Brian’s dissatisfaction was more than apparent as he found fault with every campaign that he did.  

There were whispers that rode the coattails of Brian’s restlessness; malicious gossip that swept that through the corridors as the gossipmongers reveled in the fact that Brian’s young lover had left him for another man.  And while Gardner sympathized with him, he had enough on his plate without having to worry about some lover’s spat.  If Brian continued to yield results, Gardner didn’t care what the man did in his free time.  If it didn’t bring shame to Vanguard, the man could whore his way through Pittsburgh for all he cared.

But then Brian called in sick one Monday morning.  And the man who returned to work the next day looked like he had had his entire world torn apart; he was still focused, but there was a palpable sadness to him now that he couldn’t quite hide.  His work was still impeccable, but three days a week Brian left the office early and finished his working day remotely from home.  Gossip ran rampant throughout Vanguard, and Gardner was forced into the position of taking disciplinary action, especially after he found two temporary staff members talking spitefully about the man over their morning coffee.

After dismissing both girls and having a meeting with the staff, Gardner began to make discreet inquiries.  Gathering answers was harder than he thought it would be; while people loved nothing more than to talk about Brian, no one actually knew what was going on in the man’s private life.  His personal assistant Cynthia remained tight-lipped when Lorrie herself asked if Brian was okay and wouldn’t say anything outside of the fact that Brian was working on the most difficult campaign of his life.

She wasn’t wrong in her answer; Brian continued to bring in clients, but there was an awareness to the man now that Gardner had never seen before.  And it was none more apparent than when Brian was in the art department.  Gardner had seen the lost look on his face when the upgrades were being done to the computers that the artists all used; the upgrade allowed greater dexterity when using the stylus, and Gardner had overheard him quietly asking how much the upgrade was and if it was accessible without the actual computer being present.

The computer tech had said that it wasn’t, and as Gardner listened, Brian asked if he could make an appointment to get the upgrades.  He owned one of the computers, and even though it wasn’t being used presently, he still wanted it to have the latest modifications, so if it was ever used again it would be ready to go without a problem.  The technician had whistled quietly before saying that Brian must have dropped a mint to own the computer; he’d received a silent shrug in response before Brian had walked away.

Gardner had grown up with his nanny telling him that curiosity killed the cat; to mind his P’s and Q’s, because one day he would learn something that would shake his faith in what he thought he knew.  That memory echoed in his mind as Gardner later pulled the technician aside and asked him how much one of those computers would cost for personal use.  And when he was given the figure, Gardner nearly swallowed his own tongue. 

Thousands.  Brian must have spent thousands to own a computer that he truly had little use for.  It was an artist’s computer.  You couldn’t go online with it.  You couldn’t play games on it.  You could only produce art.  And when the technician called Vanguard a few days later needing Gardner to sign off on the upgrades in the art department, Gardner was given another side of who Brian Kinney was when he learned that the man had spent another thousand dollars to have the computer in his loft upgraded.

Carefully worded questions told of a loft that was immaculately decorated; of white Italian leather and chrome accents.  A real showcase; Gardner had expected nothing less from his partner.  What he hadn’t expected, however, was the description of a dusty desk.  Of a computer that when turned on to install the upgrades, showed a partially completed digital painting of unparalleled talent.  The tech had said that Brian had asked for the rendering to be saved; that they weren’t finished.

They.  It was telling how much Brian had revealed in that simple sentence.  An artist’s computer, which sat on a dusty desk.  A lover who had left him for another man.  But Brian had said that they weren’t finished.  And then one afternoon, Gardner learned more about Brian Kinney than he ever thought possible.  His nanny had been right – once you knew, your entire world was tilted on its axis, and nothing was ever the same again.

He had needed the pre-presentation that Brian had been working on to answer questions that the Iconics representatives had; they weren’t willing to wait to speak to Brian himself, and Gardner had headed for Brian’s office while muttering about having to babysit temperamental clients.  And as he rounded the corner, he had seen a slim blond talking to Cynthia.  The young man had his back to Gardner, but the tension in his shoulders was telling, as was the way he twitched slightly when he asked to speak to Brian. 

He didn’t stay long after learning that Brian wasn’t in the office.  He simply walked away with his shoulders hunched and his chin lowered as Cynthia picked up the phone and frantically punched in a phone number.  But as the blond went to step into the elevator, he glanced over his shoulder, and Gardner caught sight of his face. 

And in that moment, everything that Gardner thought he knew about Brian Kinney changed.  He knew that young man; he knew him well enough to trust him with what Gardner considered to be his most beloved creation.  And as he approached Cynthia’s desk, he caught the tail end of the voice mail she was leaving as she, too, stared after the blond.

_“… he’s pretty upset.  He said to tell you that ignorance is bliss, and that you should have remained blissful.  I don’t know where he’s headed, Brian, but…look, can you call me back?  Thanks._ ”          

Cynthia herself was pretty upset; known for her ice queen persona, to see her blinking rapidly had Gardner changing direction mid-step and letting himself into Brian’s office without comment.  The folder for Iconics was sitting on Brian’s desk.  Letting his eyes travel over the space properly for the first time, Gardner had admired the large painting that hung behind Brian’s desk, and the way that his personality was reflected in the clean lines of the furniture.

And as his hand had drifted to the desk drawer and pulled it open briefly while he opened the folder with the other, only Gardner would ever know that Brian kept a silver framed photograph of a laughing toddler being held by a smiling blond youth tucked safely out of sight.  He stared at the framed photograph for a minute before slowly closing the drawer and returning his attention back to the folder in front of him. 

And when Cynthia walked into Brian’s office a few minutes later, she would quietly tell Brian that Gardner had been on the phone reassuring Iconics that Brian was well on track with their campaign and they had nothing to worry about.  That Gardner had full faith in his partner’s capabilities, and that the campaign he was designing was some of his best work.  That Gardner had hung up the phone and shrugged when Cynthia had met his steady gaze before muttering that he hated babysitting clients who couldn’t wait until the following day for an answer.

Back in his own office, Gardner had sat at his desk and stared into space for several minutes before he had reached out and picked up his phone.  An hour later, he had all the answers he needed and was wishing that he didn’t.  He had learned about a relationship that had lasted nearly two years.  About a young blond man who had lived with Brian before their relationship had ended four months ago.  Another discreet inquiry told him that Brian was in therapy with a clinical psychologist who specialized in depression.  And as the facets of Brian Kinney’s persona shifted again, Gardner began to pay closer attention.

Gardner learned more over the coming weeks; he learned about a young man who was suffering from debilitating depression, and an ex-lover who was seeking therapy to try and understand the how’s and why’s.  That the same young man had been admitted to the hospital after he had tried taking his own life five months earlier.  After learning of that fact, Gardner saw yet another side to his business partner as he began to piece together the timeline of watching Brian change, and adding in these new facts.  And as more information reached his ears and he learned that the same young man had been re-admitted to the hospital, Gardner wished like hell he had been more open to meeting Brian Kinney instead of listening to rumors about his reputation.

So here he sat with a business presentation that reeked of desperation, and a clearer picture of just who his colleague was outside of Vanguard’s walls.  And when Brian was shown to his office, despite being impeccably dressed, he couldn’t quite hide his anxiety as he sat down.  Gardner knew that Brian had expected to have this meeting in one of the conference rooms, but as Gardner watched him, he was relieved that he had chosen the privacy of his own office as Brian began to speak. 

“Thanks for seeing me, Gardner.  I wanted to talk to you about internships.”

Gardner simply nodded, and as Brian began to talk, he slowly relaxed as he relayed the facts to Gardner: that taking on an intern would be cost effective, and that it would give the art department a much-needed creative boost.  And when Gardner asked if Brian had someone in mind, he simply nodded before talking about a young man who was a second-year student at PIFA.  Who had a Grade A average and was remarkably talented.  Who wanted to pursue computer animation as a career.

Pride; the man was proud of what his younger lover had accomplished at school, and he couldn’t hide it from his voice, or conceal the way his eyes glowed as he spoke about a driven young man.  He talked about working credits, and as Gardner steepled his fingers under his chin, Brian finally fell silent and looked at Gardner with barely masked hope.

“We use a state-of-the-art computer program here, Brian,” he began. 

Brain nodded.  “The young man I am thinking about is well-versed in the use of these programs, Gardner,” he said quietly as Gardner tilted his head slightly.

“Why did Justin have to learn how to use that type of computer?” he asked softly, and Brian’s eyes jerked up towards him in open shock.

For a long moment, complete silence pressed in on them from all sides.  And when Brian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, Gardner reached out and slowly turned the silver framed photograph on his desk towards him.  The photograph was a posed school portrait; it showed a youth with large grey eyes and silky black hair, and as Brian’s eyes flicked between the photograph and Gardner, Gardner finally shrugged and tapped the top of the frame with his index finger.

“My son… Tommy.”

Understanding slowly crossed Brian’s face, and he gestured towards the photograph.

“Justin’s Tommy?”

Gardner rested his hands on the desk as Brian’s eyes flicked between his face and the photograph of his son.  And when he finally shook his head, Gardner rose to his feet and crossed the wet bar that was set into the wall.  Pouring a shot of Chivas Regal into two glasses, Gardner set the cut crystal decanter back and then moved back to his desk.  Handing Brian one of the glasses, Gardner took a sip from his own before he spoke quietly.

“I knew that Tommy was gay long before he told me himself.  When my wife was dying from breast cancer, we spoke for a long time about what to do when she passed.  The one thing that we agreed upon was that Tommy would never have to fear coming out to us or facing a family who didn’t support him.  I don’t think Tommy ever told his mother that he was gay; but by the time he had gained enough courage to tell me, I had already educated myself as much as I could without pulling him out of the closet before he was ready.

“I chose to take over the Ryder agency because of where it was situated.  I needed a home base for Tommy, even though I know his plans are to graduate early and move to New York so that he can attend Tisch.  I needed to know that I was close enough to get to him quickly, without him feeling like he was being babied as he took the steps he needed to start his life.  It was the same reason that I explored Liberty Avenue before I even _started_ my takeover bid for this place.

“If I hadn’t found Boytoy; if I hadn’t known that Ari took thorough care of the young gays who go to his club on a Monday, I would have looked elsewhere.  Nothing in my life, Brian, means more to me than my son.  I could lose this place tomorrow, and I wouldn’t care.  If he’s safe and happy, then the rest of it could go up in flames and I would walk away with a smile on my face.”

Gardner picked his glass up and took another sip.  Brian kept his silence as he stared at Gardner, and he sighed as he set his glass back down and steepled his fingers together while he continued to speak.

“The first time I let Tommy go to Boytoy, I sat outside the club in my car the entire time he was there.  We had talked about the rules I expected him to follow; he wasn’t to leave the club without letting me know where he was going first, and he wasn’t to go anywhere with anyone he didn’t know.  I didn’t even have to ask him not to take drugs from strangers, because Tommy treats his body like a temple.

“When ten p.m. rolled around, I saw Tommy walk out of the club with some blond kid.  The guy had his arm around Tommy’s shoulders, and Tommy was laughing as he looked for me.  And when he pointed me out, the young man walked him over to the car and introduced himself.  Said his name was Justin Taylor; he just wanted to make sure that Tommy had a lift home.  He squeezed Tommy’s shoulder and said that if Tommy had enjoyed himself at Boytoy, then he would look out for Tommy the following week.”

Gardner sighed and dropped his eyes to his glass as he shook his head.

“The following week, Tommy went back to Boytoy, and I once more spent the next three hours sitting in the car.  Come ten p.m., Justin walked him out and over to me.  This time, however, Tommy had Justin’s phone number, and Justin told Tommy that if he needed to talk or if he wanted some advice on choosing a school, to give him a call.  And every week without fail after that, Brian, Justin would walk Tommy out to my car.

“I asked Tommy after a couple of weeks if he and Justin were dating, but Tommy just laughed and said no.  He said that Justin looked after him while he’s at Boytoy; that they dance and talk, and that Justin had made Tommy promise him several things.  That he wouldn’t ever go anywhere with a stranger, without letting someone else know first.  That he wouldn’t ever accept a drink from someone unless it was unopened. 

“That he wouldn’t ever go home with someone he didn’t know, and that he would never let anyone make him feel like he was nothing more than a pretty face.  I never thought that they were anything more than friends.  I knew they were close; I knew that Justin looked out for him.  I knew that Tommy thought that Justin was invincible.  But then one night, Tommy called me from Boytoy and said that Justin was in the hospital, and he was going to go to the diner with a man named Emmett who was good friends with Justin.”

Brian’s gaze jerked upwards from where it had been trained on the table, and Gardener managed to smile when he saw the look on Brian’s face.

“I waited for Tommy to call me again, but instead of Justin walking Tommy out to my car, he was delivered by a man who towered over him and redefined the word gay in my head.  Tommy was really subdued on the way home, and when we got there, he told me what he had learned.  That his friend had been readmitted to the hospital, and that this kid he thought was king of the world was suffering from clinical depression.

“To say my son was rattled, Brian, is an understatement.  We spent several hours that night talking about what Justin had said to him in the past, and how things that hadn’t made sense at the time now did.  I hadn’t seen Tommy cry since he lost his Mama.  But he cried that night; I saw my son turn into a man between me dropping him off at Boytoy and picking him up at the diner a few hours later.

“Emmett picked Tommy up from school the following day and took him to see Justin.  After that, it was me who would take Tommy to see him.  I never went inside the unit.  I always waited outside, so that Justin and Tommy could have some privacy.  And after I saw you heading in there one afternoon, I continued to wait outside so that you could keep your own privacy, without ever running into me in the corridors.”

Brian looked away as Gardner finished his drink, and when he leaned forward Brian finally looked back towards him. 

“I have been lucky enough to see Justin’s work in the past, Brian, when Tommy toured PIFA; Justin met up with us and he showed Tommy the painting he was working on while we were there.  So, I know how talented he is.  My question is, why does he need to use the computer when he is able to produce the art that he does?”

Brian blew out a harsh breath, and Gardner felt the first slow roll of deep sympathy for the man.

“Brian; no one, and I do mean _no one_ , outside this office knows what is going on with Justin, and if they do, it isn’t because I told them.  I’m not judging either one of you.  Justin is my son’s friend.  You are my business partner.  And I will do whatever it takes to protect your privacy, including sacking staff who are gossiping about you over coffee.

“I have known about you and Justin for a while now.  I have known about what he is going through, and what you are going through.  I know that you are in therapy, and that he is also, no doubt, in therapy himself.  And while I might not have spoken to you about this before today, what I _did_ do, was look into the insurance that’s a part of your salary package to make sure you were covered properly.”

Brian reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and when he finally spoke Gardner could hear the underlying anger and misery reflected in his voice as humiliation swept through him over the realization that Gardner knew his personal business.

“Justin has brain damage,” he said finally.  “It causes his hand to cramp when he uses it for too long, or if he is trying to make his hand work the way it used to for the finer details.  I got him the computer after he started at PIFA when he was talking about dropping out because of the trouble he was still having with his hand.  His dexterity is a lot better than it used to be, but he still struggles, especially if he’s tired.”

“Was he in an accident?” Gardner asked, and Brian raised his hand to his mouth; sweat beaded across his upper lip as he slowly lost all color in his face, and he eventually shook his head. 

“No,” he said hoarsely, and as the word left his mouth, Gardner swallowed hard.

“Then how does a healthy young man have brain damage, Brian?” he asked softly, and when Brian raised his eyes, Gardner saw the haunted look on his face.

“He, uh… a jock at his school took offense to the fact that Justin was gay.  He came out in his senior year, and this jock was a closet case if I ever saw one.  They, uh… they had a physical altercation in the locker room, and things slowly escalated from there until this kid followed Justin down into the parking garage after prom...”

Brian’s voice trailed off, and a haunted look crossed his face.  Swallowing convulsively, his voice was barely audible when he spoke.

“He, uh… Hobbs hit him.  He…”  Brian shook his head slightly, and he dragged his hand down over his mouth.  “He came at Justin from behind, and he… he hit him in the head with a baseball bat.”

Brian’s chin dropped, and he chewed on his lower lip as an unsteady breath escaped his mouth.  Gardner finally nodded when he realized that Brian couldn’t articulate any further what had happened, and he deliberately opened the folder on his desk.

“You know that the pay for an internship isn’t good, Brian, and considering that he is working night shift at BP, that is quite a monetary difference,” Gardner said briskly, and when Brian’s eyes snapped back towards him with barely concealed hunger, Gardner sighed as he wondered what else Brian didn’t know about the young man he so obviously loved.

“I’m, uh… willing to personally make up the difference…” Brian managed, but Gardner shook his head.

“No.  Justin isn’t stupid, Brian; he would know what the going rate is for an internship, and if we offered him one that was higher than normal, he’d smell it a mile off.”

Brian blew out a soft breath but then nodded.

“He needs to know that he can do this on his own,” he said finally.  “He needs to know that I’ll respect his decisions; that I’m not trying to… to interfere.  I can’t be the one to offer this to him, Gardner.  He’ll say no, just for the sake of saving his pride.”

Brian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sank dejectedly into his seat.  Gardner remained silent as he watched Brian fight to gather his thoughts, and when Brian finally opened his eyes again, Gardner sat forward. 

“I spoke to PIFA this morning; if offered an internship, Brian, the school is willing to combine Justin’s days into two full school days and three on-site work days.  But there are strict conditions applied to this from both sides that he must adhere to.  Those are hard lines, Brian, and if not followed, the internship will be dissolved immediately.”  

“And those are?” Brian asked, and Gardner smiled grimly.

“He has to maintain an A grade average in all classes.  No time off unless he produces a documented medical excuse.  He also must continue therapy; I’m looking into ways of making it possible for him to get insurance with us, so that he can cover the cost better.  I’m also thinking of combining the internship with freelance work.  He’ll get the scholastic credits he needs, and we can pad out the monetary side of it there.”

Folding his hands, Gardner fixed his eyes on Brian’s face and then spoke flatly.

“As for here, it is quite simple, Brian.  _If_ Justin accepts an internship, he will intern under Murphy, and he will report to me.  You will have no say in his duties here.  You won’t work on any campaigns with him, and if there are any disciplinary instances, you will have zero say in what happens.  I have absolutely no problem with you spending your lunch hour with him, but outside of that, during work hours, you will maintain your distance.  Am I making myself clear?”

When Brian cleared his throat, Gardner leaned forward.

“I like Justin, Brian.  I like him a lot.  He’s been nothing but good to my son, and I want to be able to return that favor to him.  But this is business for me; and while I am agreeable in going to bat for you, and willing to do whatever it takes to help you, I will not have it disrupt my company.”

Brian finally nodded, and when Gardner held his hand out, Brian’s grasp was firm.  Rising to his feet, Brian turned to leave the room before Gardner spoke again.

 “I already have Justin’s current phone number.  I’ll call him this afternoon, and organize a meeting.”

Brian nodded again, but before he left the office, his voice whispered through the air.

“Thank you.”

Gardner looked up, but all he saw was Brian’s shadow as he walked away.  Smiling to himself, Gardner reached out and picked up the phone.  No, he hadn’t liked Brian Kinney when he had first met him.  But _this_ man?  This man he could see himself liking.  Dialing the number that he had memorized some time ago, Gardner leaned back in his chair and waited for the phone to be answered. 

When Justin did answer, and Gardner identified himself, Justin’s first question was to ask if Tommy was all right.  After reassuring the young man that he was, Gardner went on to explain why he was calling.  And as expected, Justin’s confusion turned into anger that had him flatly refusing what he called charity.  But when Gardner laughed, Justin fell silent and he listened as Gardner laid it all out for him.  The terms of the internship, and the conditions that applied.

It was only after Gardner had explained the rules that were in place for his working days at Vanguard that Justin spoke.  His voice shook slightly as he asked if those rules had been explained to Brian, and when Gardner said yes, Justin blew out an unsteady breath.  It took Gardner a further half-hour to convince Justin to come in; to sit down with him, and at least what the internship would entail.  But when Justin finally agreed, Gardner smiled as he made an appointment to meet with him the following day. 

After ending the call, Gardner sat back in his chair and smiled again.  While he was ruthless when it came to business, at the end of the day, he was a simple man.  Family always came first.  And maybe, just maybe, he could help heal the fracture in Brian’s family.             


	27. Chapter 27

27.

_“How have you settled back into being at home again?”_

_“It’s good to be able to sleep in my own bed.”_

_“And how are things between you and Daphne?”_

_“Really good; since we had that therapy session at the hospital together, things have been really open between us.  Daph isn’t afraid to tell me how it is, and I’m not hiding anything from her now.  It’s like we’re back to where we were before we had sex and things got so strange between us.”_

_“I thought things were better in that part of your relationship.”_

_“They were; I think it was more me than Daph; I shouldn’t have had sex with her.”_

_“Why do you say that?”_

_“Other than the fact that I’m gay?  It changed things between us… I always felt guilty that I couldn’t be what she wanted me to be.”_

_“Justin, Daphne only wants you to be **you**.  The absolute best version of you that you can put forth.  If that is the Justin that walks around in sweat pants and bare feet while scratching his ass as he drinks his coffee, then that is the Justin that Daphne will love.  The same as you love the Daphne that falls asleep while studying, and ends up with pen all over the side of her face.”_

_“Ha!  I love that Daphne; she’s funny when she wakes up and can’t figure out where she is.”_

_“That’s good.  And when do you plan on going back to work?”_

_“I’m not.  I resigned from BP; as I said to you before I discharged myself, I need to take back control of my life.  I don’t think that working at BP during the night will be helpful – I’m alone too often, and I get lost in my own head.  I can’t afford to do that anymore.”_

_“So, you went through with it; I’m proud of you for that, Justin.  Most people will stick with what is familiar and safe.  Do you have any plans for a job?”_

_“Brian suggested that I look into an internship with an ad agency.”_

_“That’s a great idea, Justin; you’ll be able to learn on the job, and get a better understanding of your artistry.”_

_“Yeah, that’s what he said.  I’m going to put a resume together and send it out.”_

_“Let me know how it goes.”_

**_*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*_ **

_“Any job offers?”_

_“One.  But I won’t be taking it.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because Brian rode to the rescue again.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“The interview is with fucking Vanguard.”_

_“Isn’t that where Brian works?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“I see.”_

_“Gardner Vance asked me to come in for an interview; I said I would, but I won’t be taking the position.”_

_“Oh, **Gardner** offered you the job… I thought that you meant that **Brian** had offered it to you.”_

_“No, Gardner did.  He said that Brian wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”_

_“So… why are you so reluctant to take the job?”_

_“Seriously, Alex?”_

_“Yes, Justin, seriously.  If Brian doesn’t have anything to do with your role in the company, why not take the job?  I mean, you’re an artist.  By the sound of it, you’ll be getting hands-on training and working credit towards your education.”_

_“Yeah, but…”_

_“But nothing.  If Gardner has said that Brian won’t have anything to do with your job, then realistically, Justin, it is only your pride keeping you from accepting the role.  You told me when you were discharging yourself that you wanted to take control of your life.  If Brian had a hand in putting your name forward for an internship, that doesn’t mean anything more than him thinking that you are talented enough to get the role.  The rest of it is up to **you**.”_

_“Huh… I guess.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Tell me how things are going, Justin.”_

_“They’re alright.”_

_“How’s the new schedule for school going?”_

_“I haven’t started it yet; I still need to finish up at BP first, and I don’t do that for another week.”_

_“Ingrid take you resigning okay?”_

_“Yeah, she said that she had been expecting it; she wished me well, and told me to finish out my two-weeks’ notice.”_

_“And are you looking forward to starting at Vanguard?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“ **What** don’t you know?”_

_“That’s the thing; I can’t tell you, Alex.  I just… I don’t know.”_

_“Is it because of the close proximity to Brian?”_

_“No.  Gardner told me that Brian was told to keep it professional in the office, and if there is one thing that Brian prides himself on, it’s his reputation.”_

_“Then what’s worrying you?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin, you know that you can tell me anything.”_

_“What… what if I’m not good enough, Alex?”_

_“You wouldn’t have been offered the internship if Gardner Vance didn’t think you were good enough, Justin.”_

_“You think so?”_

_“I **know** so.”_

_“You don’t think it’s because I’m friends with Tommy?”_

_“No, I don’t.  You don’t run a multimillion dollar business on favors to your children, Justin; if Gardner hadn’t thought that you were talented enough, he wouldn’t have offered you the internship.  It’s as simple as that.”_

_“Oh.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“How did your meeting with Carol go?”_

_“Good; she said I’ve regained another two pounds, and that if I keep it up she’ll let me have some more say in what I eat.”_

_“That’s excellent, Justin!  Congratulations!”_

_“Thanks.”_

_“If you could eat whatever you wanted right now, what would it be?”_

_“…three cheese lasagna, with a glass of milk.”_

_“Now that **does** sound good; where do you get that from?”_

_“… Debbie’s.”_

_“I see.  Didn’t she ask you to have dinner with her and Vic?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“So?  Call her.  Take her up on her offer of dinner.”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“If you do take her up on that offer, Justin… can you get me the recipe?”_

_“Ha!  Yeah, I can do that.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“How was your first day?”_

_“Hard.”_

_“Why was it hard?”_

_“There’s a lot to learn, and Murphy doesn’t pull any punches.  He said that for someone as talented as I am, that he had no intention of treating me like someone who didn’t know what they were doing, so he expected me to keep up.”_

_“How did that make you feel?”_

_“… it made me feel good.  He didn’t treat me with kid’s gloves.  He gave me a direction, and I was able to get the work done in the timeframe he set out for me.”_

_“What did he ask you to do?”_

_“I was given an outline to color, and I had to do some coloring by hand, too, rather than on the computer.  He said that I had a strong grasp of color and that my instincts were good.”_

_“How’s your hand holding up?”_

_“It’s sore.  I iced it before you came over.”_

_“Have you ever thought about having acupuncture?”_

_“I don’t like needles.”_

_“The needles used are different from the ones used by medical personnel, Justin.”_

_“I know; but I still don’t like them.  That was the one thing my mom said when I started hanging out on Liberty Avenue; she knew I wouldn’t shoot up, because the thought of using a needle freaks me out.  It made me laugh at the time, but if she knew that I was doing any kind of drug, it would break her heart.”_

_“You don’t take drugs anymore, though, Justin.”_

_“Uh, yes, Alex, I do.  You prescribed them, remember?”_

_“Those are a completely different type of drug, Justin; yes, you can become addicted to prescription medication, but if I thought that you were headed that way we would be having a completely different type of meeting right now.”_

_“Fair enough.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Are you okay, Justin?”_

_“Not really.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“I, uh… I was asked out on a date today.”_

_“Oh?  By whom?”_

_“Some guy I fucked last year.  Eric… He said he’d heard that Brian and I had broken up, and he asked me out to dinner.”_

_“What did you say?”_

_“I said no.”_

_“How come?”_

_“I can’t give him what he wants.”_

_“Which is what, Justin?”_

_“A boyfriend.  He told me when we fucked that he wants a boyfriend; someone to stay home with.  Someone to love.”_

_“Then you did the right thing, Justin, if you can’t see yourself feeling that way about him.  Better to let him down gently now than break his heart later.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“What else is troubling you, Justin?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin?”_

_“He wanted romance, Alex.  What do I know about romance?  About relationships?  I’ve never even been on a fucking date.”_

_“Justin…”_

_“I know more about sex than the average nineteen-year-old; I’ve **had** more sex than the average nineteen-year-old.  And when he asked me out, all I could think about was that he’d eventually want to fuck again.”_

_“Is that a problem for you?”_

_“Considering that I haven’t had an erection in six months, yeah, I’d say it’s a fucking problem, Alex!  I mean, who suffers from erectile disfunction at nineteen?”_

_“Justin, I’ve seen you fucking at Boytoy…”_

_“…Yeah, I can get it up when I’m topping, but if I’m bottoming… nothing fucking happens!”_

_“Justin, you once viewed sex as two different things; you would happily top guys, but you would only bottom for Brian.  Maybe your emotions are playing into it.”_

_“I’ve bottomed for other guys since Brian, Alex.  I bottomed for both Sam and Ethan while I was still **with** Brian.  Just because I was stupid enough to think that by only letting Brian fuck me that it meant something about us doesn’t mean that I haven’t since learned I was wrong.  _

_“I thought that when Brian continued to fuck me that it meant I was special… that it meant I was different.  I was just a stupid kid who bent over for him whenever he raised an eyebrow.  I wasn’t special to him, Alex; I was just ass on tap.  I want things to go back to normal…including being able to fuck!”_

_“Justin…”_

_“Are we done?”_

_“Justin…”_

_“Are we done!?”_

_“…yeah, we’re done.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“What’s that?”_

_“Recipe for three-cheese lasagna.”_

_“Recipe… oh!  You had dinner with Debbie and Vic?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“How was it?”_

_“It was nice, actually.  It was just Deb, Vic, me, and Daph.  There was a lot of flirting between Vic and Daph, and a lot of laughter.  I really enjoyed myself.  Deb cooked far too much, so, I have enough left-over lasagna for lunch to last me and Daph a full month.”_

_“So, what else happened?”_

_“We, uh, made arrangements to have dinner together once a week.  Either at Debbie’s or at our place.”_

_“That’s really good, Justin.”_

_“Yeah… I, uh, went outside for a smoke, and Vic followed me out.  We talked.”_

_“What did you talk about?”_

_“My attempt, and how Vic felt about me living with him and Deb last year.”_

_“And how do you feel about that discussion?”_

_“Better.  Vic said I was welcome to come to him and Deb whenever I wanted or needed anything.  That if I wanted to talk or practice my flirting that he would always be there for me.”_

_“Do you believe him?”_

_“…yeah, I think I do.”_

_“And how was Debbie?”_

_“She hovered for the first twenty minutes that we were there; I can’t tell you how many times she opened her mouth to speak, only to then close it and shoot me this worried look.”_

_“Do you remember when I readmitted you?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“I called a meeting that night with the family, and with Ethan and Sam.”_

_“Fuck, I can just picture how well **that** went over with Ethan.”_

_“Ha!  He said something about it not being uncomfortable at all.  It broke the ice.”_

_“There’s my boy.  When in doubt, whip out the sarcasm.”_

_“Something like that.  Debbie was at that meeting, and when she first walked in she was shaken.  I took her aside and I asked her what was wrong, and she said that she had overstepped the mark with you when you were with Tommy at the diner.”_

_“Yeah, she did.  She made me feel like my friendship with Tommy was… dirty, somehow.  Like I was going to bend him over the table and fuck him in full view of the patrons.  It pissed me off.”_

_“Yeah, she said that.  She also said that you were no longer the kid who just smiled and took whatever anyone was saying to you; that you had immediately shut her down, and stood up not only for yourself but for Tommy, too.”_

_“Tommy’s… fucking beautiful.  I don’t mean what he looks like, Alex; I mean on the inside.  Pure as fresh snow.”_

_“Does he remind you of yourself?”_

_“No… maybe.  I care about him… he’s special, Alex.  Even when I was in the hospital, he never made me feel… damaged.  When Emmett bought Tommy by, we curled up together in bed.  Just talking.  Talking about a boy that Tommy had flirted with at Boytoy the night before.  About a girl in his class who had cut her hair short.  You know… just stuff.  He never once made me feel… weak.  To him, the setting didn’t matter.  What mattered was that we were together.”_

_“Is that how Debbie and the others make you feel?”_

_“Sometimes.”_

_“Vic?”_

_“No, Vic didn’t make me feel like that.”_

_“Emmett?”_

_“No.”_

_“Ted?”_

_“No.”_

_“Brian?”_

_“…yeah.”_

_“How does Brian make you feel weak?”_

_“Jesus, Alex, he had to fucking spoon feed me while I was… gone.  He all but wiped my ass.”_

_“And that made you feel weak?”_

_“…yeah.”_

_“Did you have that reaction with Sam or Ethan?  Daphne?”_

_“No… why?”_

_“Because they were all but wiping your ass, too.”_

_“That’s different.”_

_“How is it different, Justin?”_

_“I don’t… it’s just different.”_

_“Is it because Brian was your partner?”_

_“…he wasn’t my partner, Alex.”_

_“Justin.”_

_“I wasn’t his partner, Alex; I was just some kid who got dumped on him.  I was... a fucking obligation.  It’s like that expression; you break it, you bought it.  In his case, it was you fucked it, now deal with it.  He never wanted me living with him; but I pushed and pushed and pushed until he gave in.”_

_“And now?”_

_“Now he feels responsible.  I can all but fucking smell it on him; eau de contrition, the latest scent in designer guilt.”_

_“Is that what you really think?”_

_“What else am I meant to think, Alex?  He threw me out of his life without a backwards glance.  I didn’t see or hear from him for months after that.  It was only because **you** told Emmett what I had done that Brian found out.  And suddenly he wants to be a part of my life again?  He wants to be my friend?”_

_“He cares about you, Justin.”_

_“Cares… I wanted him to love me, Alex, the way I loved him.”_

_“Justin… you know that he did.”_

_“No, he didn’t.  Don’t try and turn what we were into something that it wasn’t.  I might be fucked up, but I’m not stupid.”_

_“Justin…”_

_“I’m tired, Alex.”_

_“Justin, stop pushing me away when things get hard.”_

_“I’m not pushing.  I just don’t see the point in talking about things that you don’t understand.”_

_“I understand far more than you think, Justin.”_

_“Yeah?  Then understand that what Brian and I had is over.  Done with.”_

_“Have you told Brian that?”_

_“He’d have to admit that we were in a relationship for him to say that it was over, Alex.”_

_“And if he did admit it?”_

_“Do you know Brian Kinney?”_

_“Do you?”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Have you spoken to your mother lately?”_

_“Not really.  I mean, we talk.  But it’s all very surface, you know?  She asks me how therapy is going, but I don’t tell her what we speak about.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because she has enough on her plate with raising Molly on her own.  I don’t want to add to her problems.”_

_“She’s your mother, Justin.”_

_“What’s that got to do with it?”_

_“She loves you; she wants to support you.”_

_“I know she loves me, Alex.  But I don’t need her support.  I’m fine.”_

_“You know what, Justin?  I am officially banning you from using the word **fine**.  I never want to hear it come out of your mouth again when you are speaking about your emotions.  Use another word.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Use angry!  Sad!  Happy!  Pissed off!  Use fucking fabulous, but do **not** use the word **fine**!”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because the last time that you used the word fine, you were anything **but**.  Be **honest** with me.  You have all these people in your life, wanting you to be honest with them.  If you can’t verbalize it to **them** , then talk to **me**.  But **stop** bottling it up!”_

_“I’m not bot…”_

_“Yes, you are, Justin!  Talk to me!  Just this once, don’t be the WASP that you were raised to be!  Be Justin Taylor and tell me how you **really** feel!”_

_“ **Fine!**   I’m pissed off!”_

_“Good!  Why are you pissed off at her?”_

_“Because she betrayed me when she told my father I was gay, even after I asked her not too!  She betrayed me again when she dragged me into therapy that I didn’t want to try and ‘convert’ me back into the kid she thought was fucking clueless!  She might love me, but she sure as shit doesn’t **get** me!”_

_“How doesn’t she get you, Justin?”_

_“Because she never listened to me!  I would tell her one thing, and if it didn’t fall in line with how she thought I should be, she disregarded it!  Everyone keeps telling me that they want to be **there** for me; that they want to listen to what I have to say!  Why couldn’t they listen before?  Why… why did it take me trying to kill myself before they wanted to listen!”_

_“How does that make you feel?”_

_“Like I’m nothing!  Like my feelings and thoughts were irrelevant!  Unless I was ‘Sunshine!’… unless I was fucking bending over and saying, ‘yes, you can treat me like shit until you want to fuck me!’… unless I was what they wanted me to be… I was fucking nothing!  I was invisible.  A pretty little toy that they trotted out for amusement until they got tired of me and put me back on the shelf.”_

_“And now?”_

_“Now I **want** to be invisible… I can’t be what they want, Alex… I just can’t.  I can’t be ‘Mom’s Golden Child.’  I can’t be Sunshine, or Baby, or Kinney’s Boy Toy… I can’t be what I **was**.  And **none** of them understand that.”_

_“Justin… the people in your life?  They just want you to be **you** … whoever Justin Taylor turns out to be… **that’s** who they want you to be.”_

_“But I don’t know who that is!”_

_“You’ll find out, Justin.  And the people in your life?  They’ll love that person just as much as they loved the old Justin.”_

_“Love?  Love is just a lie that people tell themselves to make excuses for how they allow other people to treat them.  There’s no such thing as love, Alex.”_

_“Oh, Justin.”_

_“I’ve gotta go.”_

_“Justin, wait…”_

_“Bye.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“How’s school going?”_

_“Hard.  When my classes were spread out, my hand had a chance to rest.  But now that it’s condensed, I’m finding it harder to make it work properly.”_

_“Have you given any more thought to alternate therapy?”_

_“You mean acupuncture?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“No.  I told you that I don’t like needles.”_

_“What does your neurologist say?”_

_“That this is as good as it’s going to get.”_

_“How do you feel about that?”_

_“It hurts.”_

_“How does it hurt?”_

_“I don’t want to talk about the… I don’t want to talk about that.”_

_“Justin; you need to start addressing the things that hurt you.”_

_“I’ll talk about anything you want me to, Alex, but I won’t talk about that.  I can’t.”_

_“It’s okay to be angry, Justin.  To be scared.  Start small with me… just tell me one thing about what Chris Hobbs did to you.  Not the bashing… but afterwards… just one thing…”_

_“What do you want me to say, Alex?”_

_“Anything you want, Justin.  Just tell me one thing about how it makes you feel.”_

_“…he stole my life.  And I’m meant to… what?  Just deal with it?  Get over it?  Talking about it won’t fix what he did to me.  Talking about it won’t give me back the use of my hand.  It won’t bring back the person that I used to be.”_

_“No, it won’t.  But it will help you deal with what was done to you.”_

_“He…”_

_“He what, Justin?”_

_“He killed me.  Hobbs killed me in that garage.  And now I’m a broken bag of flesh and bone.  Justin Taylor?  He’s dead.  Me?  I don’t know **who** I am.”_

_“I know it feels like that…”_

_“No, you **don’t** know.  **No one** knows how that feels.  They all say that they understand, but they have no fucking idea how it feels.”_

_“There might be someone who understands.”_

_“Who?”_

_“Brian.”_

_“Brian...  He wouldn’t talk to me back **then**.  And I don’t want to talk about it **now**.”_

_“Justin…”_

_“I’m fucking fabulous, Alex.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“How’s work going?”_

_“It’s alright.”_

_“Do you get along with everyone?”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“Justin?”_

_“Look, everyone seems really nice.”_

_“But?”_

_“I’m not antisocial, Alex; I just can’t stand people.  I don’t want or need new friends.  I like the ones I have.”_

_“And how are those friends?”_

_“Good.  Daph’s buried in her books now.  Ethan is getting ready to go to New York for a week.  And Sam is organizing time off to go with Ethan.”_

_“How’s Tommy?”_

_“He’s good; he’s dating this kid at school.  They keep it low-key, but Roman isn’t hiding the fact that he’s with Tommy.  He seems nice enough; he makes Tommy happy.”_

_“And Emmett?”_

_“He keeps asking me if I want to go shopping.  He met up with me and Tommy on Monday night at Boytoy; we danced for a while.”_

_“It’s like pulling teeth with you today, Justin!”_

_“Sorry, I’m just tired.”_

_“Okay.  Who else?”_

_“I had coffee with Ted the other day; he gave me some really good financial advice.  I said I’d, uh, catch up with him and Emmett for dinner or lunch soon.  Mel and I went to the museum on the weekend; she let me take Gus home with me for the night.”_

_“Now that sounds like fun!”_

_“Yeah, it was.  He’s such a great kid.  We had an oversleep, as Gus calls it; we had spaghetti for dinner, and we watched movies and ate popcorn until he fell asleep.  First male I’ve let sleep in my bed… I woke up to him trying to eat my hair.  Brian and I took him to the park on Sunday; we had some food that Brian had bought with him, and then he dropped me off after we took Gus back to Mel.”_

_“Oh?  And how are things with you and Brian?”_

_“… He’s being a friend.”_

_“How do you mean?”_

_“We don’t see much of each other at work; but some days he’ll sit with me in the court yard at lunch.  We went to this new Thai place that he wanted to check out after work the other night.  He came to the museum with me and Mel.”_

_“Have you spoken to him about what happened between you?”_

_“No.  He keeps asking me when I’ll invite him to a therapy session.”_

_“And what did you say?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“Why?”_

_“What else is there **to** say, Alex?  I talked and talked and talked when we were fucking.  I’ve said all there is to say; it changed nothing back then, and it made me feel like a fucking idiot.  It won’t change things now.  Why rehash old shit?”_

_“To answer any lingering questions.”_

_“I don’t have any questions.  I **know** him, remember?  He showed me how he felt about me back then.  I don’t need another reminder.”_

_“A reminder of what, Justin?”_

_“That nothing I did was good enough.  That **I** wasn’t enough.  Why rehash that?  He’s back to being the Stud, which is all he ever wanted.”_

_“Justin… Brian’s changed.”_

_“So, everyone keeps telling me.”_

_“You can’t see it?”_

_“I can see it; it’s good that he’s addressing how his parents raised him.  If he’s able to address his fears, it’ll make things easier on Gus when he gets older.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Brian’s biggest problem was that he was so scared of failing at being a parent, at the thought of opening himself up to love Gus, that he gave up before he even tried.  It doesn’t take much to make a kid happy, Alex; it isn’t about the latest designer clothes, or the best toys on the market.  Kids just want to be loved; they just want to be wanted.”_

_“Do you think that Gus is the reason why Brian is in therapy?”_

_“Probably.”_

_“Oh, Justin.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Justin, we’ve been speaking daily for a couple of weeks now.  Can I ask how you think you are doing?”_

_“I’m getting better.”_

_“Yes, you are.  You’re continuing to gain back the weight that you lost.  You look a lot healthier than you did.”_

_“But?”_

_“How do you think you are seeing things?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“You know yourself that your illness blinded you to a lot of things, that it made you see things differently.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Do you think you are seeing things more clearly now?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“….”_

_“Alex?”_

_“I think that you are still partially blinded.”_

_“…”_

_“Justin?”_

_“I’m getting better, Alex.”_

_“I know you are.”_

_“So, why would you say that to me?”_

_“Let me ask you this, Justin; do you think that the family still only sees you as the boy that Brian was fucking?  Do you think that is why they are falling over themselves to be a part of your recovery?  Or do you think they are doing that, because they love **you**?”_

_“…”_

_“Do you think that Brian is in therapy because of Gus?  Or do you think he is in therapy so that he can try and learn how to handle his own life in a healthier manner?”_

_“…”_

_“Do you think that Brian only ever saw you as a convenient fuck?  Or do you think that he cared about you?  That he still cares about you… that he is trying to fix his **own** life, so that he can be a part of **your** life?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin?”_

_“I… I don’t want to talk about that.”_

_“Justin…”_

_“No!  I can’t go back, Alex… I can’t go back to being… I just can’t.”_

_“To being what, Justin?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin… what can’t you go back to being with Brian?”_

_“His fuck boy.”_

_“Is that what you think you were to Brian?”_

_“…”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Brian, thanks for calling me back.”_

_“What’s this about, Alex?”_

_“I’m straddling a very careful line here, Brian, so, don’t ask me to divulge anything outside of what I am going to ask you, all right?”_

_“Okay...”_

_“How are things going between you and Justin?”_

_“Good.  I leave him alone at work, because Gardner said that I was to have nothing to do with Justin’s internship.  But I try to meet up with him at lunch time in the courtyard.  I’ve taken him out to dinner a couple of times, and we spend Sunday together with Gus.  We go to the museum, or shopping… we spend time together.  He’s more comfortable being around me now.”_

_“Dinner…dates?”_

_“…yeah…”_

_“Does Justin know they’re dates?”_

_“I’m trying not to push him.”_

_“That’s not what I’m asking, Brian.  I’m asking if Justin **knows** that you are taking him out on dates?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“How do you ask him?”_

_“I just say that there’s a new place that I want to check out, and does he want to come.”_

_“Okay...okay.”_

_“Alex?”_

_“Brian, I’m going to offer you some advice; the next time you ask Justin to check out a new place, say it like this; ‘Justin, can I take you out for dinner?’  Can you do that?”_

_“Has he said something?”_

_“Brian… can you just… ask him like that?”_

_“Yeah, okay.”_

_“Thank you.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“How was your day, Justin?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin?”_

_“…I can’t stay long tonight, Alex.”_

_“How come?”_

_“I’m going to Boytoy.”_

_“Oh?  I thought you went last night with Tommy.”_

_“…”_

_“Justin… are you planning on tricking tonight?”_

_“…”_

_“What happened, Justin?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I know you, remember… I **know** how you use tricking.”_

_“It’s just fucking, Alex.”_

_“It is, if it’s **you** doing the fucking.”_

_“So, I’m horny…what of it?”_

_“Then jerk off.  But don’t do this to yourself, Justin.”_

_“Do what?”_

_“Hurt yourself.”_

_“I’m not…”_

_“…you are!  Now what happened?”_

_“…”_

_“Justin!”_

_“…Brian asked me out to dinner.”_

_“You said that you’d been out to dinner several times with him.”_

_“It was **how** he asked.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“He made it sound… like a date.”_

_“What did you say?”_

_“I didn’t… I changed the subject.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because Brian doesn’t date.  He’d probably fuck the waiter to hammer that point home.”_

_“How do you know?  Maybe he was just wanting to check out a new place with you?”_

_“I can’t go down that path with him, Alex… I’m not strong enough.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I…”_

_“Justin… talk to me.  Just this once, tell me.”_

_“I can’t.”_

_“Can’t what?”_

_“I can’t be what he wants.”_

_“Which is what?”_

_“His fuck buddy.”_

_“How do you know that that is what he wants?”_

_“Because that is all he **ever** wanted from me.”_

_“And now?”_

_“I know he wants to fuck me, Alex.  He can’t hide it.”_

_“How does he show you?”_

_“It’s in the way he looks at me; at the way he looks at my body.”_

_“Explain…”_

_“He, uh, when he looks at me, I can see him mentally undressing me.  When he looks at me, it feels like he’s touching me.  I can see it in his eyes; he’s never hidden how much he wants to fuck me.”_

_“How does that make you feel?”_

_“Sad.”_

_“Why sad?”_

_“When I was still living with him, he only had to look at me, and I would drop to my knees.  But as our… as we… as it was ending, when he started tricking all the time, I couldn’t handle seeing the look on his face.  I started facing away from him when he wanted to fuck me.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I’ve told you before; he would bring tricks back to the loft, and fuck them on my side of the bed.  If I wasn’t walking in on him fucking some guy, I was finding the wet cum stains on the sheets.  And it hurt, Alex.  It really fucking hurt.  He’d want to fuck me… and I’d smell the scent of some other guy on his body, and…  it was a message to me.  This isn’t your home.  You just stay here.  You aren’t enough to keep me satisfied.  You aren’t enough to make me happy.”_

_“Oh, Justin, I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that.”_

_“No?  Have you ever been bent over, Alex, and had your… whatever the fuck he was, shove his cock up your ass with barely a kiss to the back of your neck?  He treated me like a **trick** , Alex.  The closer we got to ending, the worse it got.  No prep… no kissing or touching.  Just a fuck.  This coming from the man who spent an hour rimming me the night that he took my virginity.  _

_“Who spent ages with his fingers in my ass; as high as he was, he tried to make sure that I was ready, that he wouldn’t hurt me any more than he did.  He told me that he wanted me to always remember it, so that no matter who I was with, he would always be there.  Like this ghostly fucking specter… he might not remember that night, Alex, but I do.  And to go from that, to what we were?  It hurts, okay?  It really fucking hurts.”_

_“You need to tell him these things, Justin.  You need to make him understand.”_

_“Why?  I’ve already told you; I can’t go back.  I won’t.”_

_“I know you can’t go back, Justin, but have you thought about the fact that maybe you can go forward?”_

_“…”_

_“Okay… we’re bringing Brian into your next session.”_

_“No.”_

_“Yes.  Do you want to get better, Justin?  Do you want to move forward, and leave all the pain behind?”_

_“You know that I do.”_

_“Then this is a part of that.  You must purge what you are hiding so that you can move forward.  If that means telling Brian how he made you feel, then that is what you do.  If the relationship between you and Brian is done, then you need to let go of all of the pain that you are still carrying.”_

_“I can’t, Alex.  I can’t let him in.  Don’t ask me to do that.”_

_“You have to.”_

_“No, I fucking don’t!”_

_“Why won’t you let him in, Justin?”_

_“Because he hurt me!  Because he betrayed me!  Because I was stupid enough to give him that power!  But lesson learned.  I won’t ever let him have that power over me again.  He won’t **get** the chance to humiliate me ever again, because I won’t give him the power to do so.  I might still love him, Alex, but I won’t let him back in.  I gave him everything.  And it still wasn’t enough.”_

_“I’ll see you tomorrow, Justin.”_

_“Fuck you, Alex.  Fuck you.”_  
  



	28. Chapter 28

28.

Fighting against the urge to curse, Brian clenched his hand as he glanced at the clock on the wall.  Glancing across the room, he watched as Alex smoothed his hand absently down his thigh, and he wondered briefly if the man was as calm as he outwardly appeared.  Glancing at the clock again, Brian bit the inside of his lip and then sighed.  Justin was late, and while it was only by a minute or two, it said a lot about how his former lover was feeling regarding the therapy session that Alex had demanded that Justin partake in.

Four weeks had slipped by since Justin had discharged himself from the unit.  Four weeks during which the weather had finally warmed as Brian slowly integrated himself back into Justin’s life.  Four weeks of cautiously-worded conversations, and carefully thought-out encounters where he tried his best to show Justin that he could trust him.  Four weeks of thinking that he was making headway with the boy, only to have Alex reveal that he wasn’t getting anywhere. 

That thought had been made reality after Alex had called him to ask how he and Justin had been getting along.  In Brian’s mind, they had been getting along great; he had grown some balls, and had asked Justin out to dinner a couple of times.  He’d kept it casual; a new Thai restaurant they had never tried before, or that new Indian place that had opened a few months earlier.  Casual settings and light conversation as he had slowly learned that, God help him, ‘dating’ didn’t necessarily mean what he had once thought.   And while it grated, he hadn’t said anything when Justin had insisted on paying half the bill at the end of the night.

Then there had been the Sundays that he had shared with his two boys.  The first Sunday had come after Mel had called him to let him know that Justin had taken Gus overnight.  He had shown up at Justin’s apartment on that Sunday morning at nine a.m.; Daphne had let him, and with a slightly unreadable look on her face, she had informed him that Justin and Gus were in the shower and he’d have to wait.  The ten minutes that he had spent waiting were flush with memories of slick, soapy skin and the sound of Justin begging for more in hushed tones; those memories seemed like a century ago.

Those thoughts had collided with reality when Justin’s laughter proceeded his voice down the hall after Gus had escaped the bathroom.  His son had come running down the corridor wearing soap bubbles and a smile; upon seeing his father, Gus had launched himself at Brian, who had caught his slippery boy and swung him up into his arms.  And when Justin skidded into the room a second later with a towel wrapped low around his waist, Brian had been helpless to stop the erection that had thickened his cock.

Justin’s hair had been drenched, sending water down over the pale skin of his chest; those long, golden strands had clung to his forehead, and the smile that lit up his face caused Brian to inhale sharply.  Dripping wet, and smelling of soap, it had been an echo of the past as his Sunshine grinned openly at Gus as he reached for him, the laughter in his eyes warming something inside Brian that had been cold for far too long as Justin gently scolded Gus for his daring escape from the shower. 

He had been forced to fight back the envy that had crept along his spine, however, when Gus buried his hands in the long hair at the back of Justin’s head and he pressed sloppy kisses to Justin’s laughing mouth.  But he had gone to Justin willingly; his son’s giggles had echoed with Justin’s voice as they disappeared back down the corridor, and ten minutes later Brian had knelt on the floor in Justin’s room and dried off his son.  Justin had taken his clothes into the bathroom and had firmly closed the door; but kneeling in his room, surrounded by the scent of his lover, Brian had had to fight for composure.

It was the sight of Justin’s bed that had caused the myriad of emotions that had engulfed him; a blue pillow wedged against the wall, and a gray pillow lying perpendicular to it.  It was knowing that his son had slept safely in Justin’s arms, while they had shared that single pillow.  It was the sight of the pajama bottoms his son had worn to bed, lying tangled on the floor with the thin, gray pants he could remember Justin favoring.  He knew from personal experience that on the rare occasions when Gus had slept at the loft, he had insisted on dressing the way that Brian himself did – sleep pants and a bare chest – and by the looks of it, he had maintained that same tradition with Justin.

It was knowing that his son loved Justin as much as Justin loved Gus.  It was in remembering Jennifer telling him that Justin had sworn that any children that he had would know how much they were loved.  Justin had never hidden how much he loved Brian’s son; he practically glowed with it.  And knowing that Justin had lost Gus when he had distanced himself from the family brought a fresh wave of pain crashing down on Brian as he heard Gus’s steady stream of babble frequently dotted with the clearly-spoken word ‘Jussin’.  Miscommunication, jealousy, and lies had deeply wounded Justin, but the loss of the child he had been helping to raise?  That had added another layer of pain to a festering wound. 

As he helped Gus into his clothes, Brian had thought back over the phone call with Lindsay after she had taken Gus to see Justin at PIFA.  Lindsay hadn’t minced words, nor had she been able to fight back her own tears when she had mentioned Justin’s heart-breaking reaction to seeing Gus, and how happy Gus had been to see Justin again.  When Justin walked out of the bathroom and caught sight of Gus, the smile that had crossed his face had Brian silently promising himself that no matter what happened, Justin would always be a part of Gus’s life.

That first Sunday had turned into a weekly date; playing at the park, and taking his beautiful boys out for lunch.  Shopping trips, or visiting the museum and art galleries before they took Gus home.  Moments where Gus napped in Justin’s arms, and Brian enjoyed the open love that showed on Justin’s face as his blond stared down at the sleeping toddler.  And while Justin refused to set foot inside Lindsay and Mel’s home, he would still kiss and cuddle Gus goodbye before Brian took him to the door.    

The time they had spent together had been priceless.  But when Alex called, Brian had been left with his heart sinking into his stomach.  Alex was more than worried; in a faint voice, he confessed to Brian that Justin was slowly beginning to backslide.  He refused to reveal what he and Justin had spoken about, but Alex’s frustration had been more than apparent when he asked Brian how he had invited Justin out for dinner.  It was only then that Brian had realized that Justin had been interpreting the outings as just an encounter with a friend.

He had done what Alex had asked, though – the next time he had asked Justin out to dinner, he had posed the question as a date.  And Justin had lost all the color in his face before he stammered out a feeble excuse and then bolted.  That was the only thing that Brian could call it – he had watched Justin regain his courage and his internal strength over the last few months, but faced with that simple question, those hard-fought for emotions had deserted him.      

And now this; Brian knew that Justin didn’t want this therapy session.  Alex hadn’t had to tell Brian that Justin was resistant to the idea.  His boy had shown him that when he had scowled at Brian two days ago before walking away in an indignant huff; all hunched shoulders and twitching hips, Justin’s displeasure had been more than apparent as he glared at Brian from across the room while Brian discussed his latest campaign boards with Murphy. 

A voicemail from Alex had cleared up the bewilderment that Brian had felt when faced with Justin’s anger.  And while he knew that Justin was feeling backed into a corner, at the same time he only felt relief.  He had been trying to get Justin to talk to him for weeks, but the wall that stood between them had remained solid.  Strong.  Impenetrable.  And while he could see his boy, he still very much on the outside.

Although he sympathized with how Justin felt, if this therapy session gave him the first key to the locks on Justin’s door, then Brian was going to sing like a fucking canary.  Alex had reminded him that honesty went both ways; that he had told Justin that this therapy session would be about answering one or two questions.  Alex hadn’t been able to impress strongly enough upon Brian that he had to think very carefully, not only about the questions he wanted to ask Justin, but about the answers he had better be prepared to give.  

That had given Brian a moment of pure panic; wild thoughts had run through his mind as he tried to work out what Justin could possibly ask him.  Not knowing, not being able to control the outcome, had scared the utter shit out of him.  But the driving need to _know_ was stronger than his fear.  The questions he had been asking himself for the past four months had kept him awake some nights.  He needed answers; if being honest with Justin gave him those answers, then honest he would be.   

Justin had proceeded to avoid Brian after that voicemail; instead of eating lunch in the courtyard like he normally did, Justin had taken to eating at his desk, with ‘fuck off’ clearly broadcast in the stiffness of his shoulders.  It had left Brian torn between wanting to pull Justin into an empty room where he could kiss the sulky pout from Justin’s mouth, or putting him across his knee and spanking that delectable ass for being so fucking stubborn.

A knock on the door dragged Brian out of his thoughts, and he looked up as Alex’s receptionist Peg opened the door to reveal his unhappy blond; there was no doubt in Brian’s mind that the sunshine was hiding behind thunder clouds today.  Justin walked into Alex’s office without comment, and after openly glaring at Alex, he glanced at the couch where Brian sat before he crossed the room and leaned against the wall so that he could look out the window. 

Brian licked his lips as he stared at the tension in Justin’s shoulders before he looked towards Alex, who was biting his lip as he gazed at Justin.  While the weather had warmed, the ice that Justin had encased his heart in was still frozen solid.  And as Justin crossed his arms and cocked his hip, Brian shivered.  The icy anger coming from his beautiful boy was arctic in its intensity, and it showed Brian that he would no doubt bear witness to a major queen out, the like of which he had never seen before.

“Justin.”

Alex’s voice was calm when he spoke, but he still balked when Justin looked over his shoulder.  Brian flinched himself; he knew the look that graced those pretty features.  He could almost hear the rasp of the blade on the metaphorical wet stone, and he held his hands up in a placating manner before Alex could speak.  And when Justin shifted the glare he had aimed at Alex towards Brian, he swallowed hard before he spoke.

“I know you don’t want to do this, Justin.”  A blond brow arched mockingly, and Brian licked his lips before he spoke again.  “I didn’t want to do it this way, either.  But I didn’t study psychology at college; if Alex says that this will help you, then I’m going to have to trust that he knows what he’s talking about.”

Justin snorted softly before he turned his attention back to the view outside the window.  Brian sighed as he scratched his eyebrow, and when Alex gestured towards him slightly to keep going, Brian took a deep breath and spoke firmly.

“Justin.  What do you want to know?”

A jerk of those slim shoulders, and Brian licked his lips before he rose to his feet and crossed the room.  Standing behind Justin, feeling the warmth of that slender body so close to his own, Brian closed his hands over Justin’s shoulders and tried to ignore the tension he could feel.

“Okay, then; I’ll start.  What part did you play in Kip dropping his law suit?”

Justin squirmed uncomfortably under Brian’s grip, and as Brian watched his reflection in the window, he could see the surprise that widened Justin’s eyes before his face smoothed out.  Maintaining eye contact with him via the window, Brian rubbed his hands briefly across Justin’s shoulders before he squeezed them gently.

“When we spoke the night that I saw you in Alex’s office, you said that you had lied to me before.  I asked you what else you had lied about, and you said that it was a mystery.  I remembered you saying that same thing the night before your eighteenth birthday when we were talking about Kip dropping the law suit; you told me that I was lucky that you weren’t turning eighteen until the following day.  I know you had something to do with it, Justin… the only thing I don’t know is how and why?”

Justin bit his lip as he shook his head, and Brian’s hands tightened around his shoulders briefly as Justin raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.  It was only when Alex cleared his throat and murmured Justin’s name that he sighed.  That soft exhale of air shook his whole body slightly, and Justin closed his eyes briefly before he spoke.  

“The how was easy; I picked him up.  I let him take me home.  I let him think that he was going to fuck me.  I let him suck my cock.  And then I told him I was only seventeen.  I said my dad would freak out if he knew I was there; he asked me how my dad would find out, and I said there was no way he would… unless I told him.  He asked me if I would do that and I assured him that I wouldn’t… provided that he did something for me.”

Brian’s whole body jerked at the softly spoken confession, and Justin lowered his chin so that a curtain of pale hair slid down across his cheek, hiding him from sight.  Anger warred with admiration – the two emotions clashing – as Brian spun Justin around to face him. Brian shook his head and spoke hoarsely as he reached up to cup Justin’s face briefly in his hands and stared down into the eyes he knew so well.  

“Do you have any idea what he could have done to you?” he managed to say as Justin peered up at him.  “Any idea at all?  Did anyone else know what you were planning?” he asked, and when Justin gave a tiny shake of his head Brian groaned before he pressed his forehead against Justin’s and closed his eyes.

“Why?” he whispered, and when Justin shook his head again, Brian opened his eyes to look down at Justin.  “Why?” he repeated, and Justin sighed.

“It doesn’t matter now, Brian,” he said quietly.  “He dropped the suit.  All’s well that ends well, right?”

“WRONG!”

It exploded out of Brian, and Justin jumped under Brian’s hands as his eyes widened in shock.  Brian’s hands clamped down on Justin’s shoulders, and he shook him slightly as he stared down at him.

“He could have done _anything_ to you, Justin!  He could have raped you, or bashed you, or fucking killed you, and I would never have known why!” he hissed.  “Why did you do it?” and Justin’s face twisted slightly before he planted both hands against Brian’s chest and he shoved him backwards.

“Because you would have lost everything!” he shouted; his breath came out in sharp little pants as Brian stared at him in disbelief.  “You would have lost your job, and your home, and the ability to provide for Gus!  And for what?” he asked in bewilderment with a jerk of his hand.  “Some pathetic jerk that you just _had_ to fuck?  Michael wasn’t willing to do anything to help you, so, I did what I had to do to make sure you didn’t lose _everything_ you had worked so hard for!”

Brian’s jaw dropped, and he stepped back into Justin’s personal space as he clamped his hands around Justin’s forearms.

“And if he’d hurt you, Justin?  I would have lost everything anyway,” he hissed, pushing Justin lightly away from himself as he shoved his hands through his hair in frustration.

Heading back to the couch, Brian sank into the soft cushions and silently stared at the floor.  But then he looked up again as a stray thought ran through his mind and it spilled out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“Did he fuck you?”

Justin slowly looked over at Brian, and they locked eyes.  And when he finally shook his head, Brian let out a shuddering breath.

“Would you have _let_ him fuck you?” he whispered, and Justin shrugged.  “Would you have?” Brian asked again, and Justin finally sighed.

“What do you want me to say, Brian?” he asked softly.  “I would have done anything to help you.  So, yes, I would have let him fuck me if that was what it took for him to drop the suit against you.” 

Brian closed his eyes as his breath escaped with a pained exhale.  He’d known that Justin had loved him, but to learn just how deeply that devotion had once gone was still a kick to his guts.  None of his friends had offered to help him back then; they’d all snickered behind his back, and laughed over the fact that he’d royally fucked himself.  But not his boy; his seventeen-year-old lover had pulled his ass out of the fire, and had done so without a single word.  He hadn’t sought out thanks or recognition; Brian had repaid that devotion by testing him – and those stupid tests had all but destroyed that brave young man.

Opening his eyes, Brian finally looked across the room at Justin.  His head was bowed, and as Brian took in the stiffness of Justin’s shoulders shame coated his tongue as he realized that Justin was waiting for him to tear him down like he had done so many times before in the past.  Rising slowly to his feet, Brian closed the distance between them and closed his hands gently over Justin’s shoulders.  Lowering his head to rest his chin against that soft golden hair, he let out a gush of air, and then spoke quietly as he stared at Justin’s reflection.

“While I wish you hadn’t potentially put yourself in danger like that… thank you,” he whispered.  “Thank you for trying to help me; for saving my ass when no one else would.”

Justin’s whole body jerked, and his shocked eyes flicked up to meet Brian’s reflection.  Holding his gaze, Brian let his mouth twitch up into a crooked smile as Justin looked at him suspiciously before he finally nodded and dropped his gaze again.  But when his lips parted slightly before compressing into a firm line, Brian tightened his hands slightly as he waited for Justin to speak.  But then Justin shook his head, and Brian sighed softly.

“Do you want to ask _me_ anything?” he asked quietly, and Justin shook his head again.

“How are you meant to get better, Justin, if you won’t talk to me?” he asked gently, and Justin’s shoulders slumped as his face twisted slightly.

Those bright blue eyes finally drifted up to meet his, and Justin’s tongue peeked out as he moistened the corner of his mouth.  The need to hide, to pull away from the storm of emotion he could see building in Justin’s wary gaze, was strong; he knew Justin was working himself up to something, and when he finally looked up Brian mentally braced himself.

“Why did you lie to me?”

The look that crossed Justin’s face told Brian that Justin had immediately regretted asking the softly raised question; there was no doubt in his mind as to what lie Justin meant.  It had been one of the things that Brian had thought about when Alex had warned him to be honest, and he licked his own lips before he spoke calmly.

“Because I’d left you there on your own.  I blamed myself for what he did you to you.  I told myself it was easier to watch over you than face seeing the condemnation in your eyes.  But by the time you had been discharged, and you told me that you had never blamed me, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you that I had been there all along.  It would have meant admitting that I was wrong.  That what I had done was wrong.  That my eighteen-year-old lover was stronger than I was; that he was more of a man than I would ever be.”

Justin shook his head slightly as he lowered his eyes; his eyebrows twitched as he frowned, and when he swallowed convulsively, Brian closed the distance between them and slowly slid his arms around Justin’s chest.

“Is it because of what I looked like?” Justin mumbled as Brian drew him back against his body, and Brian shook his head before he rested his chin on the crown of Justin’s head.

“No.  It was never about that, Justin,” he whispered.  “I was punishing myself.  While you were in the hospital, I told myself that if I hadn’t gone to your prom, then Hobbs would have left you alone.  But then you told me that he would have kept swinging if you’d been alone.  I’d never thought about it like that.  I’d never allowed myself to look back on that night.  But you were right; I needed to hear you say that you’d never blamed me.  But that didn’t mean I stopped blaming myself.”

“It still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me, Brian,” Justin said softly.  Brian sighed as the blond pushed against his hold until he reluctantly let Justin slip out of his arms.

“Punishment, Justin,” he said finally as Justin turned to face him with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.  “That was my self-administered penance.  Because when I looked at you, there were times where you couldn’t hide the disappointment you felt when you thought I wasn’t looking.  That was my atonement.  I would rather have let you think that I let you down than admit that I had been too much of a coward to face you when you needed me the most.

“But then you tracked me down at Woody’s.  And for the first time in my life, I had to put someone else’s needs before my own.  I had to help you regain the confidence that Hobbs had taken away from you.  I had to get you strong… I had to keep you safe.  And every time you woke up from a nightmare… whenever you flinched away from my touch… that was my punishment, Justin.”

Justin’s eyebrows drew together as he stared at Brian before he shook his head again.

“That doesn’t make sense, Brian.  I know you’re a masochist, but even _you_ wouldn’t go that far.  What aren’t you telling me?”    

Brian’s lips parted slightly, and an unsteady breath escaped as Justin looked at him expectantly.  Reminding himself that he’d promised to be honest, Brian scrunched up his nose and dropped his eyes as he forced the words out of his mouth.

“Do you remember what I said when you asked me to prom?”

Justin nodded slightly, and Brian let out another shuddering breath.

“I tried scarfing the night of Michael and David’s going away party,” he said in a faint voice as he ignored Alex’s sharp intake of breath.  “Michael found me.  He pulled me down, and he gave me the mental smack to the back of the head that I needed.  He said I was always going to be young and beautiful.  But his reassurance wasn’t enough.  I needed to reclaim…”

“…your lost youth.”

Brian nodded as Justin stared at him.  A faint smile crossed his face when Justin blinked in surprise, and he nodded.

“Yeah… that’s what I said to you when I found you.  Do you remember anything else?”

Justin shook his head, and Brian nodded slowly as Justin looked back at him.

“Why did you come to my prom?” he finally asked, and Brian shuddered slightly before he spoke.

“Because I’d made a choice.  And that choice got you hurt.”

Justin sighed as he stared at Brian with exasperation on his face.

“Hobbs bashing me was preplanned, Brian,” he said firmly.  “The guy played football.  Not baseball.  So, for him to have the bat in his car meant that he had planned out the attack.  You being there wasn’t what tipped him over the edge.”

“I know that now, Justin,” Brian said quietly.  “But at the time…”

“So, you made the choice to come to my prom,” Justin said as he looked down at the floor, and Brian glanced at Alex, who rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘grow some balls!’ at him.

“No, Justin.”  Brian cleared his throat when his voice came out in a croak.  “I’d made the decision that I wanted…”

His voice trailed off when Justin raised his head, and for a moment, they stared at each other.  Looking at the boy, knowing that Justin had been hurt by his decisions in the past, Brian blew out an unsteady breath before continuing.

“I wanted a future with you.  That’s why I came to your prom.  I wanted to show you that… and you _knew_.  You knew that I was choosing you, that I was acknowledging that I had feelings for you.”

Justin’s eyebrows drew together as his lips parted, and Brian swallowed again as an unmistakable look of hurt flooded Justin’s eyes.  But then his face smoothed over, and he straightened his spine.

“You knew I didn’t remember any of that,” he said.  “So… what?  You changed your mind when you realized that I wasn’t the same?  That I was damaged?”

“No,” Brian said firmly, even as ‘what the fuck?’ flittered through his head.  “I changed my mind when I realized that being with me would only continue to hurt you.”

Justin’s face twisted with pain, and his voice was cold when he spoke.  “Being with you didn’t hurt me, Brian.  _You_ hurt me.”

Brian flinched, and Justin looked over at Alex who was sitting there with his mouth open.

“Are we done?” he asked coldly, and Brian scrambled to his feet.

“No, we aren’t,” he said, and when Justin looked at him, Brian flinched again.

“Yeah, Brian.  We are.”

Brian wanted to recoil, even as he reached for Justin’s hand.  He knew that Justin meant more than just the therapy session, and that if he let the blond walk out the door, they really would be over with.  Grasping Justin’s hand between both of his, Brian shook his head.

“No.  I’m not done talking, Justin.”

“Yeah?  Well I’m done listening, Brian.  I’m done with having you make decisions and choices for me,” he said flatly as he tried to step around him.  “Because the last time I checked, I didn’t have strings attached to my body that you controlled, Puppet Master.”

“Punishment, Justin,” Brian blurted out as he desperately stepped into Justin’s path again.  “Knowing that you had acknowledged that we had a future together and then couldn’t remember the best night of our lives… that was my punishment.  You said that I hurt you.  I know I did.  But living with the knowledge that you knew I cared about you but couldn’t remember… that hurt _me_.  You have the ability to tear me apart, Justin.  You _have_ torn me apart.  And I was too scared to give you back that power.  That’s why I didn’t tell you that I had been there.  Because I barely survived what Hobbs did to you… I couldn’t face the thought of letting you in the way I’d wanted to, only to then lose you.”

Justin stopped still as Brian panted, and his eyes slowly lifted to meet Brian’s.  Reaching out, Brian cupped his face in his hands and shook his head as Justin continued to look up at him.

“I know you can’t remember that night… but Jesus, Justin, surely you know how I… how I feel about you.”

Confusion flittered over Justin’s face, and Brian shook his head slightly.

“I want you safe…” Brian said finally.  “I want you safe, and I want you around for a long time.  Remember?”

Justin’s eyebrows drew together, and his lips formed silent words as he stared up at Brian.  He shook his head slightly, and Brian bit his lower lip before he gently pulled Justin over to the couch and pressed him down into the soft cushions.

“You’ve always been braver than me,” Brian whispered as he squeezed Justin’s hands.  “Can’t you work with me here?  Talk to me.”

Justin slowly withdrew his hands from Brian’s, and then tucked them under his arms; his actions spoke louder than anything he could have said, and Brian nodded in understanding as Justin stared at him stonily.

“Alex said I had to answer two questions,” he said finally.  “What’s the second one?”

Brian carefully pushed the feelings of relief that wanted to flood him aside; he knew he wasn’t out of the shit with Justin just yet.  His whole demeanor shouted, ‘fuck you!’ to Brian, and he shifted his weight slightly before he spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me what Gary Saperstein tried to do to you?”

The little color that Justin had in his face slowly bled away as he raised his eyes to look at Brian.  His lips parted, but nothing came out as he wordlessly shook his head, and Brian took a deep breath as he slowly reached out and tugged Justin’s hands free.  Holding them firmly in his own, he gave them a squeeze.

“Did you think I’d say you deserved it or I told you so?” he asked.  “That I wouldn’t stand by you?”

Justin shrugged, and Brian had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop the moan that wanted to crawl out of his throat. 

“What happened?” he asked, and when Justin refused to look at him, Brian gave his hands another squeeze.  “How am I meant to support you when you don’t tell me these things?” he asked, and Justin shook his head again.

“I’ll tell you what I know; stop me if I get anything wrong,” Brian said finally when Justin maintained his fascination with the floor.  “You went to a private party at his house.  You were nervous, because you got a funny vibe from the asshole.  You were told that you were decoration; to take your shirt off and to loosen up.  Have some fun.  You did some coke.  A single line.”

Justin’s startled gaze jerked up to meet Brian’s, and Brian squeezed his hands again as Justin finally kept his eyes on his. 

“The coke made you a little jittery, and the joint that the Sap shared with you made you thirsty.  The glass of water that he got for you was laced with GHB.  After that, you could barely stand up; the Sap offered to show you around the house - he took you into a room where there were men waiting… they were waiting for _you_.

“There were two swings in the room… sex swings.  One of the other dancers were already being raped in one.  He was unconscious, already a victim to what the Sap had put in his drink.  The Sap asked you if you had ever been in a swing; that they were fun.  You said no, that you didn’t want to.  You kept repeating that, even as the men in the room came over and started to touch you. 

“The Sap tried  _convincing_  you; someone held a vial of something up under your nose, and you almost passed out.  And while you were trying to clear your head, while you kept repeating the word  _no_ , the Sap was trying to undress you, so he could get you into the swing.  He kept telling you that it would be fun, that you were a party favor.  One of the guys in the room said that he wanted to try out Kinney’s  _private stock_ , that he wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and why I guarded your ass like it was the crown jewels. 

“The only reason you weren’t raped that night is because when the Sap dropped to his knees to unbutton your pants, you kneed him in the mouth as hard as you could.  You fled the party after that; you got lost and were shit scared that he would find you and pull you back to the party.  So, you kept running.  You called Daph and she took you to an after-hours clinic, where you had to be rehydrated because of the GHB in your system.

“She took you home after that, and you spent the remainder of the night talking; talking about the fact that I held your POA, but it was really hard to get ahold of me when I was away on business.  You made the decision to change your POA over to Daphne that night.  And when I came home later that morning, you told me that you would accept the help I had offered you for school, but with certain conditions.”

Brian fell silent for a minute as he recalled what else had happened that morning.  He knew Justin was thinking about the same thing when Justin’s eyes darted up to meet his.  A small smile played across his lips when Justin flushed, and he tucked his tongue into the side of his mouth as Justin shook his head.   

“You saw Mel a few days later.  You made an appointment with her, you paid cash, and you bought her silence.  You weren’t going to tell anyone what had happened to you.  But then Emmett asked you about it, because he knew the other dancer.  You only told Emmett what had happened after he got you drunk.  But you didn’t tell _me_ … is it because you didn’t trust me?” he asked softly, and Justin shook his head.  “Then why?”

Justin crossed his arms and shook his head again as Brian watched him.  Inching closer, Brian reached out to squeeze Justin’s knee, and when Justin’s gaze met his before darting away, Brian tightened his grip again.

“Talk to me,” he implored softly.  “Stop shutting me out, Justin… why didn’t you tell me?” 

Justin chewed on the corner of his lips for a minute before he straightened his shoulders and met Brian’s steady gaze.

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” he said finally, and Brian winced even as Justin’s words tugged at a memory.

“Why would you think that?” Brian whispered, and Justin shrugged as he lowered his eyes.

“You didn’t care about anything else I did,” he said in a low tone.  “You didn’t care that I was shaking my ass on the bar.  You didn’t care if you walked in on me fucking someone else.  You didn’t care if I was there… Babylon was your playground, and there was no way you would have given that up for me, Brian.”

“How do you know?” Brian managed, and Justin laughed softly.  Bitterly.  And when he raised his gaze to meet Brian’s, the intensity in them made Brian squirm.

“Because I had asked you numerous times if we could stay in for the night, and you always said no,” Justin said, and when he went to stand up, Brian grabbed his hand and pulled him back down onto the couch.

“Justin,” he began, only to have Justin let out a harsh sound as he reached the end of his tether, and he pinned Brian in place with his eyes as he finally did what Brian wanted and spoke honestly.

“Babylon was more important to you than anything that _I_ might have wanted.  Getting your dick sucked was more important.  Fucking some loose-assed trick was more important.  Michael, and Woody’s, and your fucking _duvet_ were more important than I was, Brian!  So, why would I tell you what the Sap had tried to do, when you’d made it more than clear to me where I fell on the list of importance in your life?”

Brian’s lips parted, but nothing came out; every wheezing breath he managed to take hurt, and as Alex’s voice whispered through his mind from when this had all started, Brian could only shudder.

_“Are you ready to sit down in his therapy sessions and listen to him tear himself apart?  Are you prepared to hear what being **your** partner has reduced him to?” _

“That’s not true, Justin,” Brian exclaimed softly, and Justin snorted.

“Don’t lie to me, Brian, and don’t lie to yourself.  As I said to Alex the other day, I _know_ you.  I know _exactly_ what I was to you.”

“And what do you think you were?” Brian managed, holding his breath as he waited for a reply.

“The fuck that you settled for when there was no one better around,” Justin said flatly as he rose to his feet, and Brian closed his eyes as heartache stole his ability to speak.

It had been one thing knowing that Justin’s thoughts had taken a dark, twisted path.  But to hear what his former lover had reduced himself to was more than he could bear.  Forcing his eyes back open a mere second later, he watched as Justin drifted back to the window; his shoulders were rounded, and Brain saw a shudder roll down his spine as Justin stared out across the parking lot.  Nausea caused his stomach to lurch, but Brian still rose to his feet and crossed the room to stand behind him.  Pushing the blond’s name out, he caught Justin’s gaze in the window, and then spoke.

“You… you could have asked me, Justin.”

Blond eyebrows rose in response, and Brian stepped closer to him as Justin’s mouth twisted slightly.

“Really?” he asked as he turned to face Brian.  Leaning back against the window, he crossed his arms over his chest.  His jaw was clenching rhythmically as he stared at the other man, and a sardonic look crossed his face.  “Let me remind you of something, Brian.  The kid in the dumpster.”

Brian inhaled sharply as he remembered what Justin was talking about, and he watched as a bitter smile crossed Justin’s face.

“Do you remember what we did that night?” he asked as he tilted his chin up.  “Do you remember how unsteady I was _after_ that fuck?” he continued.  “But instead of bringing me down, of making sure that I was all right after you caused me to black out, you dragged me _out_ of bed and out to Babylon where you proceeded to pick up a trick.  What was his name again?  Was it Timmy? … Tommy? … or was it Tony?” he asked as he raised his hand and mockingly tapped his finger against the side of his mouth.  But then his eyes frosted over, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. 

“I asked you to come home with me… I fucking _begged_ you… and you said there’s never a bad time to fuck a stranger.  You left me there and went with that guy so that you could fuck him; oh, I’m sorry… to look at his _stamp_ collection,” Justin drawled sarcastically as Brian cringed.  “I had to walk home… on my own.  I had to explain away the bruises on my throat to Debbie, while listening to him brag about how hard you had fucked your latest trick at the diner the following morning. 

“And you say that I could have asked you… I _did_ ask you, Brian, but it was more important to you that you got to fuck a _stranger_.  You have the nerve to stand there and ask me why I never told you about the Sap… you have the fucking gall to say that you would have stood by me, that you would have chosen _me_.  You _never_ fucking chose me, Brian!  You never cared about me!  You fucked me!  I was just a trick that stayed too long.”

Brian’s jaw dropped; he knew it had.  He knew that he was standing there staring at Justin with his mouth hanging open as the young man panted in the aftermath of his outburst.

“How can you say that?” Brian finally managed to ask, and Justin tilted his head slightly.

“Because that’s how you treated me, Brian.  You treated all your tricks the same; the only difference between me and the guys that you picked up was that you were forced into living with me.”    

Brian shook his head and took a step closer to Justin.

“I never treated you like a trick,” he said heatedly, and Justin raised his eyebrow.

“Trawley’s Steak House.”

It was said so softly, that for a second Brian didn’t understand the meaning behind the words Justin had murmured.  But the memories that cascaded through his mind seconds later left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. 

_“So, how was your trip?”_

_“Not much fun without you.”_

_“Why didn't you tell me you were going?”_

_“I didn't think you'd care.”_

_“There were things I had to do.”_

_“Did you miss me?”_

At the time, those words had pissed him off; he’d had the pressure of his job weighing him down, and Michael leaning on him due to Ben being in the hospital.  That frustration had him pulling Justin up from his chair and pushing him up against one of the support beams.  Within seconds of pulling him out of his chair, Brian had been buried balls deep.  He had taken his aggravation out on the slender body he loved with punishing snaps of his hips, until all the noise in his head had vanished as he found momentary peace within the best ass he had ever had. 

_“I didn't think you'd care.”_

But thinking back to that moment, knowing that Justin had been fully caught within depression’s claws by that stage, Brian could see why Justin now thought the way he did.  Instead of reassuring him of his place in his life, he had simply jerked down the thin pants Justin had been wearing, and after rolling on a condom, pushed into his ass with no prep.  He could remember the sound that Justin hadn’t been able to bite back as Brian had entered him; the boy’s diaphragm had hitched, and as his head had fallen back against Brian’s shoulder, a high-pitched moan had escaped his mouth.

That single, pained sound echoed in Brian’s head, as did Justin’s whispered plea of _“Did you miss me?”_    Dragging his hand down over his suddenly dry mouth, Brian could only stare at the boy as Justin glanced up at the clock on the wall and then turned his gaze towards Alex.

“Are we done?” he asked again, and Brian was striding across the room and grabbing Justin before the question had even finished coming out of his mouth.  

A strong tug on his arm had Justin stumbling into Brian’s body; he took advantage of that, wrapping both arms around his ex-lover and pressing his mouth firmly against the soft hair under his lips.  Caught up in Brian’s arms, Justin jerked when Brian whispered his name.

“Justin, I’m sorry.”

Brian stumbled over the last word, and he tightened his arms as Justin tried to pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated more firmly.  “I should have said yes… I _did_ miss you.  I should have said that I wished I had been able to take you to Vermont like I promised you I would.  I should have told you that I _did_ care that you went without me, and that I’m sorry that you didn’t have a good time.  I’m sorry that I treated you like… I didn’t mean to hurt you, Justin…”          

Justin stilled, and those blue eyes glanced up at him.  Looking down at him, the words tripped off Brian’s tongue as desperation kept his arms tightly cinched around Justin’s body.

“I… I got scared after you moved in… you were taking up such a huge part of my life, and I didn't know how to cope with how I… with how you made me… I freaked out, Justin.  You were so open with how you felt about me, and I had never had that kind of… of love or devotion before.  My tricking wasn’t about a lack of… of feelings for _you_.  They were… I didn’t know how to trust that you wouldn’t leave, so, I pushed you away before you could… But you kept coming back, and I panicked, and when I panic…”

“You get cruel," Justin interrupted flatly.  “You use tricking as a form of punishment for yourself, Brian.  As I said, I know you’re a masochist, but when you tricked to punish _yourself_ … you were also punishing _ME_.  I was there, remember?  You got off on humiliating me.  But then you just didn’t give a shit if I was there or not… you told me that!  I asked you if you would care if I was gone, and you said no!” Justin cried as he forcibly wrenched free of Brian’s arms.

“I lied!”

It was bellowed; Justin stumbled in his haste to put distance between them as Brian followed him across the room.  But as Brian’s voice bounced off the walls, Justin froze.  Reaching out, Brian cupped Justin’s face with hands that visibly shook and tilted his head slightly, so he could look into those disbelieving eyes. 

“I lied,” he repeated softly.  “I told Michael once that it’s not lying when they make you lie, when the only truth they can deal with is their own.  That was _my_ version of the truth, Justin.  I didn’t _want_ to care, but I did.  I do.  I _do_ care that you’re gone; that you won’t let me back into your life.  That you don’t trust me.  I care more than you’ll ever know.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.  Brian watched as Justin swallowed hard, and he skimmed his hand across Justin’s face and carded his fingers through that soft blond hair as Justin’s eyes filmed over.  He could see that his boy was fighting back tears, and as he pulled Justin back into his arms, they spilled down over the curves of Justin’s cheeks.  He bit back an apprehensive sigh when he felt Justin’s hands rise between them to press against his stomach, but it escaped in a rush of relief when Justin didn’t push him away.

“What’s going through your mind?”

He whispered it against the top of Justin’s head, and when Justin spoke, his voice was strangled with grief.

“I want to ask a question now.”

Brian nodded, and when that tear-stained face peered up at him, Brian held his breath.

“Why are you doing this to me?  You’re back to being what you always wanted, Brian… why won’t you let me go?”

Brian felt his face contort slightly as Justin looked up at him, and he was unable to stop himself from brushing a kiss over Justin’s damp cheeks.  With his mouth resting against Justin’s ear, Brian finally managed to push the words over his tongue.

“Because I can’t.  Because… more than anything else… more than Michael, and Babylon, …I need _you_ in my life.”

He felt Justin jerk within his arms, and when Justin dropped his head down against his shoulder, Brian had to tilt his head back as he fought the sudden, itchy warmth in his own eyes when he felt Justin’s hands flex against his stomach.  But it wasn’t to push him away; for the first time since Brian had been told that Justin had tried to take his own life, he felt the warmth of Justin’s hands slowly slide across his waist.

His touch was hesitant, and Brian’s breathing hitched when Justin’s hands met at the small of his back.  His hold wasn’t tight, and as Brian raised his hand to cradle the back of Justin’s skull, he felt the first tremor roll through the slim body he was holding.  It was followed by a second, and he closed his eyes and lowered his head to the top of Justin’s when he felt Justin tighten his hold.  There was desperation in that embrace; turning his head and skimming his mouth down towards a shell-like ear, Brian shuddered as he exhaled, but his voice didn’t shake when he spoke.

“Believe me, Justin, when I say that I need you.  I need you to _know_ it deep in your gut.  Can you try?  Please?”

And when Justin finally nodded, Brian closed his eyes and ignored the fact that his own tears were finally spilling down his face as he tightened his hold on his lover; he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet.  That there were thoughts and doubts that still plagued Justin’s mind.  That there were still questions that need answering, and half-truths and outright lies that awaited apologies.  But as Justin’s hands clutched at the material of his shirt, he silently prayed that this was the start of something new.     


	29. Chapter 29

29.

_“I wanted a future with you.  That’s why I came to your prom.  I wanted to show you that… and you **knew**.  You knew that I was choosing you, that I was acknowledging that I had feelings for you.”_

_“Brian doesn’t **do** boyfriends, or commitment, or love… you’re just a trick, Boy Wonder.  One who has stayed too long.”_

_“I told Michael once that it’s not lying when they make you lie, when the only truth they can deal with is their own.  That was my version of the truth, Justin.  I didn’t want to care, but I did.  I do.  I do care that you’re gone; that you won’t let me back into your life.  That you don’t trust me.  I care more than you’ll ever know.”_

_“None of us ever wanted you to hang around!  We only put up with you because Brian was fucking you!”_

_“Because I can’t.  Because… more than anything else… more than Michael, and Babylon, …I need you in my life.”_

_“Brian doesn’t need you to look out for him… he has **me**.  He only keeps you around because you bend over for him whenever he wants a fuck.”_

_“…I need you in my life.”_

Justin’s eyes snapped open, and he bit back the gasp that pushed against his clenched teeth.  His breath whistled as it slowly escaped, and he turned his head on the pillow to look at the clock.  A headache had driven him into bed early; his dreams, however, kept dragging him out of the sweet oblivion of sleep.  Dreams… nightmares… memories.  They rolled through his brain like a steamroller and left him feeling flattened. 

_“Since you’re no longer with Brian, there’s really no reason for you to be around anymore.  Why don't you just do us all a favor, and disappear?”_

Justin swore softly as Michael’s voice slithered through his mind; pressing his fingers to his eyes, he squeezed them shut.  Sitting up slowly, he dragged his hands through the sweaty mess of his hair before he reached for his phone.  Just as his fingers brushed the sleek surface, however, he swore softly; Ethan and Sam were in New York.  He knew he could speak to Daphne, but some unnamed emotion kept him from seeking out the comfort of her arms. 

_“If you ask me, it wasn't worth it.  Brian should have done himself and the family a favor and just left you lying there.”_

Justin shook his head to clear it, but Michael’s hateful words continued to crawl through his mind.  Goosebumps broke out over his body, and he shivered slightly.  _The trick who stayed too long.  Boy Wonder.  Teen stalker.  Piece of ass._   Sliding out of bed, he grabbed the first pair of jeans he could find and pulled them on.  Within five minutes of waking up, he was jogging down the stairs of his apartment building and out into the night.  Trying to outrun the voices in his head wasn’t a great plan, but he needed to shut them down.   If he couldn’t drown them out with sleep, then he’d smother them the only other way he knew how. 

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_“Hello?”_

_“Chér, I’m sorry for the lateness of the hour, but you and I had an agreement when it came to young Justin.”_

_“Shit… how long has he been there?”_

_“Twenty minutes, and he’s already in the alcove.”_

_“Fucking?”_

_“No,_ _Chér; he is the fuckee.”_

_“God damn it!  I’m getting up.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_“Are you watching him on the security monitors, Ari?”_

_“Hmm… it is hard to observe,_ _Chér, but yes, I am watching over him.”_

_“Is he… enjoying it…?”_

_“…”_

_“Ari?”_

_“If I hadn’t seen him lead his trick in there by the belt with my own eyes, I would call it rape,_ _Chér.”_

_“Rape?”_

_“He’s not an active participant… not in the way that he should be.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“He’s hasn’t got an erection,_ _Chér, and his trick is oblivious to the fact that he is physically hurting your young patient.”_

_“Fuck… fuck!!”_

_“You’d better hurry, Alex; if something isn’t done to stop him, other people will soon begin to take notice, and it will only be a matter of time before he tricks with the wrong person and they hurt him too badly for him to come back from.”_

_“I’m on my way.  Try to stall him, Ari, if it looks like he’s going to leave.”_

_“I’ll try my best,_ _Chér.”_

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Therapy sucked ass, and not in a good way.  That was the first thought that surfaced from within the thumping ache in his head.  The second was that he wasn’t alone; the arm clamped tightly around his waist was testament to that, as was the thick cock that poked insistently at his ass.  Justin slowly opened his eyes and let his eyes drift around the darkened room.  He had no idea what time it was, but he had a vague recollection of which part of town he was in.  Taking a deep breath, Justin slowly inched out of the embrace he was in and pushed himself into a sitting position. 

Biting his lip against the thumping ache in his ass, he rose to his feet and silently got dressed as he peered over at the guy who had taken him home.  He was a mountain of olive skin and muscle; thick, dark hair, and if the pulsating in his ass was anything to go by, a massive cock.  He’d known what to do with that cock, too; he’d fucked Justin at Boytoy, and then twice more in quick succession after they’d gotten back to his place.  And as Justin stared at him, the guy opened his eyes and smiled when he saw that Justin was watching him.  Lifting up onto his elbow, he raked his hand through the mess of curls on his head, and smiled again.

“You are fucking _amazing_ in bed,” he said, and Justin flinched slightly as the guy sat up. 

“Yeah… I’ve gotta go,” Justin mumbled as he balanced his weight to tug his shoes on. 

Tugging his other shoe on, Justin picked his jacket up off the floor and then reached out to open the bedroom door. 

“Hey, Justin, when can I see you again?” the guy asked, and Justin shook his head slightly.

“I’ve gotta go,” he repeated, and slipped out of the room even as the trick called out after him. 

The sky was still dark as Justin stumbled out of the apartment building.  Glancing at the street signs to get his bearings, Justin sighed and started to walk.  Each step he took shot a spear of pain across his hips, and down his thighs.  But he forced that pain to ground him; at least his insides matched the mess of emotions that he had been choking on since the previous day when he had been forced to sit through a therapy session with Brian. 

To have listened to what Brian had to say… Justin shook his head as he wrapped his arms around himself.  He didn’t know how he felt about Brian’s confessions.  To know that Brian had come to his prom with the intention of showing him how he felt, only to then change his mind and hide those feelings?  That hurt on a level that Justin didn’t fully understand.  If he’d known - if Brian had actually explained that he cared - maybe he wouldn’t feel as disconnected from his ex-lover as he did now. 

Brian had said that when he hid his nightly visits from him, it had nothing to do with what Justin had looked like after Chris Hobbs had tried to kill him, and more to do the with the fact that Justin had the ability to hurt him.  But Brian himself was the master of wielding a sharp blade; he had never hesitated to slash through Justin’s feelings like tissue paper.  Had he ever done that to Brian?  Knowingly or unknowingly?  God, he hoped not.  He knew he could cut people with his words; he knew he could make people question their very sanity.  But had he ever actually done that to Brian?   

How was he meant to get over him when the man was determined to not let go?  It had been easier when he thought that Brian didn’t care.  But he’d said he did; he’d said he cared far more than Justin would ever know.  What exactly did he mean by that?  You cared for your pets.  You cared for your friends.  Is that what Brian meant?  And how was he meant to deal with that?  Brian cared… Justin was stupidly in love with the man, and he cared…   Justin sighed; he had once thought that he was fluent in Kinney-speak.  He had thought that he could read between the lines, and decipher what Brian meant with his half-spoken sentences, and hidden meanings within his actions.

But he’d only been kidding himself.  Brian had always told him that actions spoke louder than words.  He knew what he did and didn’t mean to Brian.  Because if Brian had cared about him as much as he said he did, then he wouldn’t have deliberately set out to hurt him as often as he had.  Not that he wasn’t complicit; he had bitten his tongue and tried to hide the fact that Brian had hurt him.  He had twisted himself into the person that he had thought Brian wanted him to be.  When had he lost sight of who he was as a person?  When had he handed his balls to Brian, along with his courage and the firm belief in who Justin Taylor was? 

Even those stupid fucking rules had been about Brian.  He’d naively thought back then that if Brian only kissed him, then it made him different.  It really didn’t.  If he’d had any brains back then, he would have told Brian to fuck off when he had come looking for him at Babylon; he would have said that he wasn’t willing to put up with the shit that Brian had been dishing out.  But instead of saying all of that and more, he had handed his balls over, and had put up with what Brian had done, even as Brian’s behavior had escalated.  He really had no one to blame but himself.

A solid bolt of pain tore through his stomach, and Justin staggered to a halt.  But when he looked up, he could have quite willingly curled up in a ball and cried.  Brian’s building was directly across the street from him; lost in thought, he had walked thirty minutes out of his way to stare up at the place he had once thought was his home.  Sinking down onto the steps of the building across from Brian’s with a painful wince, Justin stared up at the darkened windows of the loft.  Brian was either asleep in the bed he had once let Justin stay in, or he was out searching for the next conquest to fuck on the rumpled sheets.

Justin wiped impatiently at his face when he felt the first tear roll down over his skin.  He had fallen in love in that building; lost his virginity and his heart to the man who lived on the top floor.  And when he’d left, he’d been what Brian had wanted him to be.  He needed his true self back; the thing that made him Justin Taylor.  He wanted nothing more than to cross the street and pound on the door until Brian answered, so that he could regain the things that he had lost.  But the mere thought of setting foot inside that building made him want to vomit.  He had seen the best of times within those brick walls.  He had also seen the worst. 

Pressing his hand against his stomach, Justin breathed out unsteadily.  The dull ache in his gut and ass was slowly turning into a throbbing pain.  It hurt to walk; and having choked on the guy’s cock after he’d shoved it down Justin’s throat, it hurt to swallow.  Justin let out a weary sigh and closed his eyes.  After he’d been discharged from the therapy unit the first time, he had made the decision to visit Brian.  To see if their… they… were salvageable.  But when he had arrived at the loft, he had seen Brian escorting two guys through the front doors; one guy had had his hand buried down Brian’s pants, while the other one had twisted his hand through Brian’s hair and tugged the brunet down so that he could press his lips against Brian’s. 

The pain that had shot through Justin at the sight of his former lover had been indescribable, but it had literally bought him to his knees on the sidewalk.  Justin knew at that moment what a heart breaking felt like – and as he had turned away from his former home, he had enclosed the shredded mess of his heart behind a solid wall, where it still continued to sluggishly beat.  He hadn’t said anything to Daphne when he had eventually returned home, but he had kept the memory of those tricks in his mind as he had slowly but surely hardened his heart against the man who had once meant everything to him. 

It had taken time, but eventually he was able to speak to his friends about Brian without wanting to cry at the mere sound of his name.  It was why he had refused to speak about Brian in therapy; why he had stopped saying his name aloud, and started referring to him as a pronoun instead.  It had been the only way that he felt he could survive the loss.  In the end, he had turned to tricking in an effort to feel something other than the bone-deep pain that was a constant presence.  The first time he’d been able to maintain an erection, because he was the one who was topping.

The guy he had been fucking, however, had told him that he was looking forward to seeing why Brian had been so overzealous about how and who Justin tricked with.  Justin hadn’t understood what he had meant; that had been cleared up quickly enough, though, when the trick had told him that it had been common knowledge on Liberty Avenue that his ass was off limits to anyone but Brian.  Humiliation by proxy - even when he was out of Brian’s life, he was still reminded of how little he had meant to the other man - unless he was bent over.      

It had been that mortification that had caused Justin to pull out of the trick; the guy had looked at Justin in surprise, but when he had turned around, the guy’s exclamation of ‘fuck, yeah!’ had echoed loudly.  He’d pushed Justin face first into the wall, and fumbled for a condom.  He’d grasped his hips with damp hands, and like Brian had done so many times in the past, he had pushed into Justin’s ass with nothing more than a grunt.  It had hurt, just like it always had.  And as the man thrust into his ass with increasingly loud grunts, Justin’s erection had slowly flagged until his cock had gone completely soft. 

The trick hadn’t noticed, and Justin had bitten his lip and closed his eyes as the guy had fucked him with deep strokes and his groans echoing in Justin’s ear.  He’d made a desperate grab for Justin’s cock as his orgasm drew close, but Justin had been able to deflect his hand with a sharp slap.  After the trick had come, he had tried kissing Justin; he’d been pushed away firmly with one hand, while Justin had dragged his pants up with the other.  And after walking out of Boytoy, he had vomitted in the alley he ducked into; humiliation complete, the last of his romanticisms had been left in a fetid, watery puddle.  The young man who walked out of that alley was the one who now stared up at Brian’s loft.

For the next few months after that, he had been able to get hard if he was the one topping.  But the minute someone turned him around and bent him over, he lost his erection.  Every single time.  He had loved bottoming for Brian; had loved the feeling of his cock splitting him open, and the sounds that Brian had never been able to hold back spilling out of his lover’s mouth.  But bottoming now hurt.  Every single time.  And when the pain inside him had reached out to strangle him with every breath he took in the following months, he had used tricking to try and counteract the mental pain he was suffering along with the physical.  It sometimes worked.   

_“I care more than you’ll ever know.”_

It hadn’t worked tonight.  He’d fucked up; he knew it, deep in his gut.  He’d been in pain after the guy had finished fucking him at Boytoy.  But Brian’s voice had still been echoing in his head; whispering that he cared.  He hadn’t wanted Brian to care – he’d wanted him to love him.  And those had been the thoughts that had caused him to follow the guy out into the night, and onto his knees at the trick’s shitty apartment.  The second time had hurt, too.  The third time… Justin had buried his face in the pillows and wept the entire time the guy had ridden his ass for all it was worth.

Taking another deep breath, Justin pushed aside the voice in his head that was whispering he was only good for being fucked, and slowly climbed to his feet.  Turning away from the building, and the memories that threatened to tear him apart, he stumbled his way towards the bus stop.  He let his mind blank out as he walked, and tried to ignore the fact that he was a few twinges away from agony.  Cold; he was bitterly cold.  While the early morning was still, the chill came from deep inside himself, and it made him tremble as he gingerly sat down to wait for the bus. 

The scent of stale sex rose from his skin when he huddled deeper into his jacket, and he jerked his nose out of the little pocket of warmth he had been seeking.  He stank; the desperate need for a shower rose, and made his skin start to crawl.  It had taken him an hour on the bus to get home; an hour during which he had finally lost the battle with his nausea.  It left him gagging after he had emptied the contents of his stomach onto the sidewalk a block from the apartment he shared with Daphne.

Glancing down at his phone as he turned onto his street, Justin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  He was home on time; he was still following some of those stupid fucking rules.  He’d never kissed the guy who had so thoroughly fucked him.  Had never asked for his name.  Climbing the stairs out to the main door of the apartment building, he pressed his hand to his stomach and winced.  The elevator took forever to arrive, and the hallway to his front door had never seemed as long as it did right then.  But the need to shower, to be clean, was overwhelming.

Letting himself quietly into the apartment, he sighed; the apartment was lit up.  He truly didn’t want a lecture at 3 a.m., and he hoped like hell that Daphne would bite her tongue until he had gotten some sleep.  But when he walked further into the apartment, his eyes darted to Daphne in disbelief when he saw Alex sitting on the couch.  The betrayal he felt must have been broadcast on his face, because Daphne held her hands up and quickly shook her head even as a look of dismay crossed her face.

“Justin…”

“Save it,” he said firmly as he tugged his jacket off.  “I’m tired, and I need to take a shower.  You can show your… _guest_ out.”

Stomping past the couch, he tugged the thin top he had been wearing up his body and over his head; he heard the sharp intake of breath that Alex took, but he ignored it as he continued down the corridor towards the bathroom.  He had to brace his hand against the bathroom sink to get his socks off, before leaning into the shower to turn the water on as hot as he could possibly stand it.  As his hands drifted towards the buttons on his jeans, the bathroom door was pushed open and Alex walked into the room and closed the door behind him.  Justin’s gaze snapped upwards, and he didn’t bother trying to hide the scowl that twisted his face when he met Alex’s eyes.

“Get out!” he hissed, and Alex raised his eyebrow as he ran his eyes slowly over Justin’s upper body.

“Nope; what are you trying to do here, Justin?” he asked, and Justin snorted.

“Uh… have a shower?” he said mockingly, and Alex shook his head as he took a step towards Justin.

“Come on, Justin,” he said quietly, but Justin shook his head.

“I said, get out,” he repeated firmly.  “I need to have a shower… I stink….  What I _don’t_ need is a fucking audience.”

Alex stilled as Justin spoke, and his eyes darted towards Justin’s face.  Justin was unable to stop the twitches that caused him to jerk slightly.  When Alex made no move to leave the bathroom, he cursed viciously, and with a sneer on his face, he shoved his jeans down his thighs.  It wasn’t like Alex hadn’t seen it all before; nearly every fag on Liberty Avenue had.  Turning his back on his therapist, Justin climbed into the shower and let the hot water stream down over his skin; he closed his eyes to block out the look of disgust he was sure would grace Alex’s face.  He didn’t need to see that look – he’d seen it on Brian’s face before and didn’t need to see it aimed his way again.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Alex leaned against the closed bathroom door and tried his best not to lose his shit.  He’d missed Justin at Boytoy by ten minutes.  Ari had left him in the office, where Alex had silently watched the security footage.  Ari had been right – the encounter he had watched was akin to rape.  Justin had braced himself against the wall, but even hidden in the shadows, Alex had been able to see the flickers of pain that had crossed Justin’s face with every thrust.  Alex had fought the nausea he had been feeling and forced himself to watch the footage.

He had left Boytoy afterwards and headed to Justin’s apartment, where he had awakened Daphne and explained in hushed tones why he was there.  And as each hour slipped past, Alex had grown more and more concerned.  When Justin eventually walked through the door, Alex knew that the kid was in pain, both physically and mentally.  The encounter at the club had left Justin with a scraped and slightly bruised cheekbone from where the trick had pushed him face first into the wall, and his gait was uneven when he made his way down the corridor to the bathroom. 

And as Justin tugged off the top he had been wearing, Alex had seen the hickies that were marring the pale skin of Justin’s shoulders and back, and the finger shaped bruises that dotted the back of Justin’s arms.  It had been those bruises that had made Alex tell Daphne to head to bed – he would stay and make sure that Justin was okay.  Standing in the bathroom, however, Alex was left wondering just how badly Justin was hurting on the inside to allow the trick to do the damage he could see on the outside.  The bruises on his hips stood out in stark contrast to the pale creaminess of his skin.  But worse than the damage had been the look on Justin’s face before he had climbed into the shower. 

Shame had caused his bottom lip to visibly tremble, and Alex had wondered if the boy was even aware of the tears that were spilling down his face.  Silently opening the bathroom cabinet, Alex found the tube of topical ointment, and placed it on the bathroom counter before he scrubbed his hands clean.  Glancing at the distorted image of Justin in the shower, Alex sighed again.  If he scrubbed his skin any harder, he would end up taking off a layer.  Picking up the soft blue towel that hung behind the door, Alex stepped closer to the shower and held the towel out.

“Come on, Justin,” he said softly, but Justin shook his head.

“No… I’m not done,” he said, and Alex bit back a curse, the desperation he heard in Justin’s voice causing him to open the door. 

But when he saw the tinge of red run down the back of Justin’s thigh, something inside Alex cracked open as he reached past the blond to turn the water off.  Justin’s head snapped up, and he bared his teeth at Alex as he reached for the hot water tap.  Alex shook his head silently, and stepping into the steamy enclosure, he gently wrapped the towel around Justin’s trembling shoulders.  Using the edge of the towel, he wiped it briskly over Justin’s face, and briefly ignored the fact that the moisture that ran down Justin’s cheeks didn’t come from the taps. 

Justin’s lower lip continued to tremble, and Alex stepped out of the shower and drew the kid to him.  He kept his touch clinical as he rubbed the towel over Justin’s body.  By the time he had finished, Justin’s hair was clouded up around his head like damp fluff, and his skin was pink, both from the heat of the water and the brisk nature of Alex’s touch.  And as those crystal drops of pain continued to spill down Justin’s face, Alex compressed his lips together before he gently turned Justin towards the bathroom sink. 

Justin’s whole body locked up, and the look that crossed his face spoke of more than betrayal; there was fear in those blue eyes, and Alex was left with the knowledge that the fear rode hand-in-hand with Justin’s compulsive scrubbing in the shower.  Locking eyes with the boy in the mirror, Alex shook his head slightly.

“You’re bleeding.  I need to check how bad the damage is, Justin.”

Justin shook his head frantically, even as he tried to twist out of Alex’s grip.

“I’m fine,” he whispered, and when his voice cracked, Alex closed his hands over Justin’s shoulders and shook his head.

“You’re _not_ fine, Justin.  You’re hurt.  I swear to you, I don’t want to touch you for the reasons that you’re thinking.  Please, just trust me.”

Justin closed his eyes; Alex could see the humiliation that spread over his face as he turned around to face the sink.  Bracing his hands on the counter, Justin’s shoulders sagged even as he moved his feet apart and bent over.  Crouching down, Alex kept his touch firm and clinical as he touched the inflamed skin.

“Did he use a condom?” he asked softly as he glanced upwards, and Justin nodded, a sharp jerk of his head even as his face turned bright red.

Compassion washed over Alex like a wave, and rising to his feet, he picked the tube of topical ointment up and handed it to Justin. 

“Use it; inside and out,” he said gently.  “And if you find fresh blood, I’ll take you to the hospital.  When you’re done… we’re talking this out, Justin.  I can’t in good conscience allow you to continue with this behavior.  You’ve fought too hard to let whatever it is that set you off drag you back under.  I’ll make us some tea.”

Justin swallowed but nodded silently all the same.  And as Alex left the bathroom, he saw Justin lower his head, but not before he saw the look of trepidation cross his face.  Alex’s insides clenched at the look, and he wondered briefly as he headed towards the kitchen if he would be able to soothe the boy, or if making him talk about this was only going to add to his pain.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

“I can’t shut them out.”

Justin’s voice was hushed as he cradled the mug of tea that Alex had made him.  His hands had trembled badly enough when Alex had handed him the tea that he had waited until Justin had nearly finished the hot liquid before he had asked what had caused him to seek out physical pain for the first time in several months.  The surprise on Justin’s face had been telling; Alex had gently reminded him of the therapy session they had shared several months ago, just before Brian had found out about Justin’s suicide attempt, where Justin had told Alex that he didn’t understand why the phycologist was pretending to care.

Now as pre-dawn began to lighten the sky, Justin sipped the tea Alex had made him before he made his confession.  Alex shifted his weight on the couch and reached out to lightly touch Justin’s knee.  He had been incapable of maintaining a professional distance tonight; he’d been unable to view Justin as just another patient since almost the first time the young man’s pain had bled through his words.  But when Justin set his mug aside and reached for the hand Alex had rested on his knee, Alex was relieved he had crossed that line.

“Who can’t you shut out?” Alex asked softly, and Justin bit his lip before shrugging.

“The voices.”

“Which voices?” Alex asked, and Justin’s face twisted briefly.

“Brian’s voice.  Michael’s voice.  The voices that whisper that I’m only good enough to be fucked,” he said as his voice briefly trailed away.  “The voices that tell me I’m nothing.  It’s all I hear, Alex.  Michael telling me that I’m nothing to Brian but a trick who stayed too long, while Brian’s voice is telling me that he cares.  They won’t shut up.”

Alex tightened his grip, and when those lost eyes met his own, he gently squeezed Justin’s hand again.

“Do you mainly hear them while you are dreaming, Justin?” he asked, and Justin shrugged.

“Yeah.  Also, sometimes when I am awake; when I’m trying to concentrate.  I’ll be looking at what Murphy wants me to do, and I’ll hear something Brian has said to me.  Or I’ll be walking down the street and see someone that I used to know from Babylon, and I’ll hear the things that guys used to say to me at the diner.”

Alex sighed softly and turned his body slightly so that he was sitting face-to-face with the blond.

“The voices that you hear, Justin, are a combination of two things.  One, they are memories.  Things that you don’t want to deal with.  You don’t want to deal with Brian and the tangled mess of your relationship.  You don’t want to deal with the man himself.  He has hurt you in the past; deliberately, and knowingly.  By pushing him away, you are subconsciously trying to protect yourself from further harm.   

“You are hearing Brian’s voice in your head, because he doesn’t _want_ to go away.  He wants you to talk things out with him, something that you seem hell bent on ignoring.  The memories are rising up in your brain, because you’re burying the things that have the potential to hurt you.  You need to address these things, because if you don’t, you will fall back into that pit you have clawed your way out of. 

“The second thing they represent is a manifestation of your fears.  After Chris Hobbs bashed you, you lost the ability to deflect the hurtful things that people like Michael said to you.  Instead of brushing them off; instead of _knowing_ that they were bullshit, you took them to heart.  You began to _believe_ them.  That is why you are having such a hard time believing what people, meaning Brian, are saying now.  Because when he says that he cares about you, you remember hearing him say that he _didn’t_ care.   

“You _believed_ what people were saying to you.  Instead of deflecting, you are trying to use physical pain to ignore the mental.  You can’t do that, Justin; not when your actions tonight will only add to the mental pain you are still holding back.  Not when it will only be a matter of time before the wrong person picks you up, and they destroy everything that makes you the young man that you are.”

Justin’s breath escaped his mouth with a wheeze, and he flinched when Alex reached out to lightly press against the bruise on his face.    

“We’ll talk about your injuries in a minute.  What I want to know about more than anything tonight, though, is something you said in the bathroom.”  Licking his lips when Justin continued to look at him, Alex took a deep breath and pressed forward.  “Why did you say that you needed a shower when you came home?”

Confusion crossed Justin’s face, and Alex felt Justin’s fingers flex within his own.

“You’ve said it before, Justin, during a therapy session after you had a panic attack.  You asked me not to touch you, that you needed a shower.  I asked you back then why you needed a shower, and you said it was because you stank.  You said the same thing tonight.  Why do you think that?”

Alex tightened his grip when the color abruptly drained from Justin’s face and he swayed on the couch.

“I… I was dirty, Alex… I could smell him all over me…”

Justin’s voice trailed off, and Alex reached out with his free hand to cover the hand that he held.

“You weren’t dirty, Justin.  You’d had sex.  Other than how you use sex as punishment towards yourself, the act itself isn’t dirty.  The way you were showering, Justin… you can’t reach inside yourself to where you believe the ‘dirt’ is.  Those are emotions that you won’t deal with.”

Justin shook his head, but Alex continued to talk over his protests.

“No… I could smell him, Alex… I could smell him, and I…”

“Of course, you could smell him, Justin.  That doesn’t mean you stink,” he said firmly, and he tilted his head when Justin shook his head frantically and pulled his hand free from Alex’s.

“No…it does… I could smell him, so I needed to shower.  I needed to be clean… I wanted to shower, Alex… he said I had to… I… I need to…”

A cold feeling rose from deep within himself, and Alex rose to his feet when Justin stood up and backed away from him.  Jamming his thumbnail between his teeth, Justin’s eyes darted between Alex and the corridor that led towards the bathroom, and Alex stepped into his line of sight.

“Justin.”

Alex reached for the blond when he went to walk past him, and he caught Justin in a loose embrace.  But when Justin struggled to pull free of his arms, he held his hands up as those tear-stained eyes turned towards him.

“Don’t… I need to take a shower, Alex… can’t you just go?”

Grabbing Justin by the hand, Alex firmly pulled him back to the couch and made him sit down.

“Who told you that you smelled, Justin?” he asked firmly, and Justin shook his head again.

“It doesn’t matter,” he began, only to have Alex tighten his hold on Justin’s hand when he went to stand up.

“It _does_ matter, Justin, because this is a real problem,” he said.  “You are using tricking as a way of hurting yourself, but this compulsive need to shower afterwards?  That is hurting you even more.  Who told you that you stank?”

Justin lowered his eyes to the floor, and when he shook his head again, Alex reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Justin… I have seen rape victims act this way,” he said softly.  “The compulsive showers… the belief that they are dirty… these are symptoms of a sexual assault.  I _need_ to know; were you raped before all this started?”

Justin’s eyes flew up to meet Alex’s; the shock on his face was as clear as day, and he spoke so quickly that his words tripped over themselves.  “Brian would never rape anyone!” he said.  “Never!”

That cold feeling inside Alex turned into a block of ice, and he kept both his touch and his voice gentle as he reached out to brush the soft blond hair out of Justin’s eyes.

“But he told you that you stank?” he murmured, and Justin swallowed as he looked away.  But when he finally nodded, Alex had to fight to school his features.

“What happened?” he asked, and Justin’s lips parted slightly before he pressed them together into a firm line.  But when Alex said his name, Justin finally closed his eyes.

“I’d… I’d been out.  It was the second time that I hooked up with Sam and Ethan.  I could smell Sam all over me; the scent of his cologne… the smell of his skin and Ethan’s cum.  When I got home, Brian was there.  He wanted to fuck, but I said I wanted to shower first.  I hated it when he would come home after tricking and want to fuck me.  All I would be able to smell was some other guy all over him…  He came up to me and kissed me… I said no… I wanted to have a shower. 

“He said he didn’t care… he didn’t want to smell soap on my skin, he wanted to smell _me_.  He was… we ended up on the floor, and I… I wanted him.  I always wanted him, and it was like he couldn’t stop touching me… he hadn’t touched me like that for so long, but then he stopped.”  Justin swallowed as he lowered his eyes, and when he eventually started talking again, his voice was so low that Alex had to lean forward to hear him.  “I asked him why he’d stopped, and he looked down at me… The look on his face…  He said I stank… to go take a shower.  Then he got up and left, and I… I did as he asked, and then I went back to Ethan and Sam’s.”

The ice that sat so solidly in his gut turned into molten anger so quickly that Alex had to briefly press his hand against his stomach.  Biting his lip to keep back the force of that anger, Alex kept his touch gentle as he spoke.  “How did he look at you, Justin?” he asked, and Justin’s eyes fluttered briefly.

“Like he hated me.  Like I’d hurt him… he was disgusted with me, Alex.  I knew that he didn’t want me anymore, but I didn’t… I didn’t understand why he was so angry with me.  I mean… he tricked all the time, you know?  And the one time I tricked alone, he… he hated me for it.”

Shuffling forward slightly, Alex reached out to cup Justin’s face briefly.  And when those troubled eyes met his own, Alex smiled gently in reassurance.

“You did nothing wrong when you had that encounter with Sam and Ethan,” he said firmly.  “Not a damn thing.  What you _are_ doing wrong, though, is continuing to trick the way you are; I know that you don’t get any pleasure out of it.  I know that you didn’t get an erection when you were bottoming for that trick tonight.  Now I need to ask: you told me the last time you got an erection was when Sam topped you.  Have you had one since?”

Justin’s face flamed, and he looked away.

“Tell me,” Alex insisted gentle, and when Justin’s shoulders sagged, his embarrassment came through loud and clear.

“I can sometimes get it up if I know that I’m the one who is going to top,” he said eventually.  “But… I have trouble keeping it up.  I can… I can get the other guy off, but… I haven’t… finished… since that night with Sam.”

Alex nodded silently as he went back over what Justin had said during the last hour and his therapy sessions.  And when he looked back towards Justin, he swallowed hard and then spoke.  “You told me that the last time you got hard was with Sam.”

Justin nodded as he chewed on the corner of his lip, and Alex tightened his grip on Justin’s knee.

“What about later when you went home to Brian?  Did you get an erection?”  Justin gave a tiny nod, and Alex licked his lips briefly.  “Did you reach orgasm then?”  And when Justin closed his eyes and then shook his head, several pieces of the puzzle that had been missing fell into place with a thud.  Blowing out an unsteady breath, Alex spoke quietly.

“As your therapist… and as someone who has come to care for you a great deal, I’m going to be blunt, Justin.  You can’t trick, okay?  You’re doing more harm to yourself than you realize.  You and I are going to discuss your memories and the voices in our next session.  But I want to focus on your tricking, and your lack of erection.  Have you had an orgasm at all since Sam?”

Justin tilted his head slightly before he sighed and then shook his head.  “I came close once; but the trick I was with blew his load, and got hypersensitive, so, I pulled out.  He offered to suck me off, but I was already… I was already going soft, you know?”

“Okay,” Alex said as Justin’s cheeks heated up again.  “What I recommend is this: stop tricking.  I want you to concentrate on masturbating instead.  I want you to watch porn… chat online… whatever it takes to get an erection.  Then try to achieve orgasm.  I want you to write it down in your log; it doesn’t have to be detailed.  Just a simple yes/no on the days that you do it.”

“Why?” Justin asked, and Alex sighed.

“Because Justin, this is all physiological.  You need to find your self-worth again, which is tied to your sexuality.”

Justin’s eyebrows drew together slightly in confusion, and Alex pushed the words out of his mouth.

“Justin… you were abused by the people you loved.  Your father.  Your mother.  Brian.  That abuse leaves scars that we can’t see.  This is one of those scars.  So, until you find the things that you’ve lost, you will never be happy.  You will always feel isolated and alone.  Do you understand?”

Justin nodded as Alex rose to his feet.  Looking down at Justin, he reached out to ruffle his soft, blond hair, before he reached for his jacket.

“Now, I suggest that you go to bed; you have class in a couple of hours.  I’ll come back later tonight.”

Justin stood up, and he winced as he shifted his weight.  But when he looked at Alex, his eyes were finally clear.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” he said softly, as the other man shook his head.

“It’s not you who needs to be apologizing, Justin,” he said, and with a small smile, he let himself out of the apartment.  But as he headed down the stairs, the smile on his face faded.  No, it wasn’t Justin who needed to apologize.  But there were apologies that needed to be made to the young man, if he ever had a hope of recovering.  And it was high time those people were held accountable for the mess that Justin’s mind had been reduced to.


	30. Chapter 30

_**Hi, Guys, sorry for the delay in posting. My mum had a fall seven weeks ago, and broke a bone in her neck, lower back, and she also fractured her pelvis. So, I have spent the last seven weeks, running between home, work, my kids, and the hospital. She’s due to come home next week, so I am hoping things settle down a little bit. So, thanks for your patience, and thanks to Kim for beta-ing for me at a busy time in her life, and thanks to Karynn for being a** **much-needed** **shoulder to lean on. Love to you all. xx** _

 

30.

The diner was half empty.  The morning rush was over; those who ate and ordered coffee before starting their work day were long gone as he sat alone in the booth they had long ago claimed as ‘theirs’.  Michael pushed his empty plate to the side and lifted his mug to finish the last dregs of his coffee.  Ben had already left for work, and his Ma was doing the afternoon shift this week.  Tracing his fingertips over the scratched surface of the table, he blew out a steadying breath; short of discovering a time machine, the days of breakfast with the gang were finished.

Gone were the days where Brian’s sarcasm would intermingle with Emmett’s catty remarks as the two friends argued over breakfast.  Gone were the amused looks he would exchange with Ted as Emmett rolled his eyes, while Brian pushed his tongue into the side of his mouth with pleasure dancing in his eyes.  Gone was the pretty blond youth who would bounce up to their table with a grin on his face and a kiss for Brian before he took their orders.  All gone, because he had been so unbelievably cruel.

Michael swallowed hard as his thoughts drifted to Justin.  He could and had made all the excuses in the world for his behavior towards the young man, but when it came down to it, there were no excuses that would make what he had said and done forgivable.  Even then, all those months ago, he knew he had crossed the line when he had spoken to Justin after the Rage party, telling the young man that Brian should have left him lying there after Chris Hobbs had bashed him.

The look on Justin’s face still haunted Michael; his already pale face had turned grey, and although his lips had parted, no sound had come out.  In the seconds that followed, all Michael had been able to hear was the pounding of his own heart, and the breaking of Justin’s.  Michael had opened his mouth – to say what, he’d never know – but the blond had pushed past him and had hurried back into the diner, while Michael had slumped against the wall and tried to catch his breath.

When he learned that Justin had walked out afterwards, Michael had tried to believe that what he had said was justifiable.  Brian had been a falling-down mess, trying to act like it didn’t matter that Justin had walked out on him at the Rage launch.  But having been friends with the other man for over half their lives, Michael knew when Brian was putting on an act.  It was the way those unhappy hazel eyes had swept the diner each time he walked into the eatery, searching for the blond he had broken all his rules for.  He had continued looking for him, even after learning that Justin had quit.

Out of sight, but not out of mind – Michael had learned that Justin was never far from Brian’s thoughts in the way that he had avoided blond tricks; yet Brian had been unable to stop himself from taking a step towards one when he caught sight of them at Babylon.  After every unwilling step, he would drag a muscular brunet, instead, into the backroom and try to fuck his feelings away.  And with each trick, the guilt that Michael carried grew heavier.  Because it wasn’t the alarming amount of tricking that Brian had done in the months that followed.  It was the aftermath of that tricking that had been the hardest thing to observe.

It was in the way that Brian had whispered Justin’s name each time that Michael made sure that he got home safely after trying to wipe himself out at Babylon.  Tucking his friend into bed, Michael would feel the guilt he carried bite down hard on his emotions as Brian slid a seeking hand across the sheets towards the empty side of the bed that Justin had claimed as his own; blindly searching for the slim body that had once lain there.  It was in the single grey sock that Brian kept tucked neatly within his own sock drawer, and the glimmer of gold that he toyed with when he thought no one was looking.

In all the years that he had been friends with Brian, never had he thought that Brian would pick someone else over his friendship with him.  After all, Brian said it best - always have, always will.  Love you more than any other man.  Love you more than this, and this, and this.  He’d been wrong.  Brian had learned the truth about his lost youth, and the proverbial shit had hit the fan.  If Brian’s anger and then his icy silence hadn’t told Michael that Brian had chosen Justin, the fact that Brian had punched him did.  A man who had grown up being beaten for sport?  That alone spoke volumes.

All the apologies in the world wouldn’t change the way that Brian had looked at him that night in his mother’s kitchen and had beseeched him in that little lost boy tone to tell him that he hadn’t said the hateful words that had driven Justin to try and take his own life.  And in owning up to those words, Michael had seen just how much his spiteful actions towards Justin had hurt Brian as he watched a myriad of emotions cross Brian’s face in the seconds that followed – disbelief.  Devastation.  Horror.  Fury.

Grief – soul-crushing grief - had stolen the color from Brian’s face then, and with it, along with any compassion that Brian had ever felt towards the man who had always claimed to be his best friend.  Brian had looked at him like he was a stranger after his confession.  That look on Brian’s face was what had driven Michael to track Justin down at PIFA; he hadn’t counted on Justin’s reaction to seeing him, though.  When he thought back to that day, he still shivered when he recalled the cold anger that Justin had blasted him with.

And even though he could be dense – even though he could be ignorant of the more complex emotions that people felt – there was no ignoring just how hurt Justin had been.  That distress was what had driven him to go to Brian, where he had finally learned that all actions had consequences.  And that his actions had damaged his relationship with Brian to the point where he knew that even if Justin and Brian got back together, the relationship between the three men had forever been changed.

There would be no more dinners at Ma’s, with Brian tugging Justin into his lap and tuning out the world as he kissed the blond.  No more nights spent watching them dance together at Babylon, lost in the sound of the music and oblivious to everything but the way they looked at each other.  No more playing pool at Woody’s, watching as Brian idly played with pale hair while Justin and Ted spoke about angels and math; discussions that made it clear that Justin was much more than just a pretty face.    

There would be no more lazy afternoons spent talking about comics with Justin.  No more issues of Rage being talked over and slowly coming to life.  No more shared grins as Michael’s thoughts became images on paper.  Rage was gone.  The relationship he had been building with Justin was gone.  His fifteen-year friendship with Brian was gone.  The friendships with the other members of his ragtag family had been changed, because he had let his jealousy change them.  Not Justin.  Not Brian.  _Him_.  It had all come back to him.    

That realization had caused Michael to take a long, hard look at himself in the mirror; he hadn’t recognized the man who looked back at him.  He had sought help the following morning – he was still seeing Tatiana; he was still learning to be a better man.  Even if Justin one day accepted his apology, Michael knew that Brian would never forgive him for what he had said.  Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself, either.                

He knew that Brian was in therapy with Alex, because he had overheard his mom and Uncle Vic talking about it in the kitchen one afternoon before they realized he was there.  Standing in the shadows of the hallway, Michael had listened as Uncle Vic had said that Brian should have received therapy ten years ago.  His mother had laughed softly before saying that nothing and no one would have gotten Brian into therapy any earlier; that it had taken Brian learning about how destructive his behavior had been to make the man take an honest look at himself in the mirror and realize that he didn’t like who he saw looking back at him.

Uncle Vic had asked what she meant, and his mother had sighed before she revealed how she had confronted Brian over his behavior towards Justin when the blond had first moved back in with them after the bashing.  In hushed tones, she had stated to Vic how she had told Brian that she knew he was in love with Justin; and while he hadn’t verbally agreed with her statement, he hadn’t disputed it, either.  And within hours of that conversation at Woody’s, Brian had taken Justin back home with him to the loft, where he felt that he belonged.

Michael had thought long and hard about what he had overheard; when he next saw Brian, he had made the mistake of asking how Justin was.  The rage he had seen flash in Brian’s eyes had been the only warning he had received before the man had swung at him.  Sprawled at his feet, Michael had finally realized that the friendship and loyalty that he had taken for granted were no longer in play; Brian had made his choice, and it wasn’t Michael.  It was the young blond who had bashed Brian’s walls down and made himself at home as Brian had scrambled unsuccessfully to re-erect them. 

He and Ben had gone to some of the family meetings about Justin since that night, but there was a tangible divide between Lindsay, Ben, himself, and the rest of the family; Mel had had a therapy session with Justin, as had Emmett and Ted.  And even though Uncle Vic and Ma were yet to be invited to sit in on one of those sessions, Michael knew that Justin had had dinner with them one night recently.  But it was in hearing the naked pain in the voices of the people he called family as those therapy sessions were discussed afterwards that Michael had begun to see how long-lasting his actions would be.

It was in the way that Emmett and Ted were both polite to him; but Ted was still avoiding him and could barely bring himself to meet Michael’s eyes when they were all gathered together.  And every time that Emmett looked at him, Michael could see the betrayal that Emmett felt after learning that Michael had taunted Justin with the words he had said when he had returned from Portland.  It was the disappointment on Uncle Vic’s face whenever he looked at Michael.  It was the way that his Ma couldn’t hide how much her heart had been broken when the truth had come out.

It was the frank discussion he had had with Ben, when his partner had told him that he didn’t feel like he could trust Michael anymore.  That he couldn’t connect the man he had fallen in love with, with the man who had been so cruel.  Ben’s disappointment still made Michael feel sick when he thought about it.  But the lack of trust between them now was the worst.  He knew how close he had come to losing Ben; the way he had lost Brian. 

It was in the way that Justin still refused to speak to Lindsay, and the way he had made his feelings toward Michael crystal clear when he had mistakenly thought he could approach Justin and find the same kid he had manipulated in the past.  But that kid was a man now.  And he made Brian’s walls look like cling wrap – see through and flimsy.  Gone was the warmth that Justin had once looked at him with – the humor and kinship that they had once shared.

Kinship – Justin had thought that they were friends.  But Michael had been consumed by jealousy, and unwilling to let the young man in.  He still, even now, didn’t understand what had drawn Brian to Justin.  What was it about the blond that had drawn Brian’s attention that night?  What was it about him that had kept Brian’s attention?  Michael had known that first morning that Justin was different; he had never walked in on Brian dressing a trick before.  Throwing their clothes at them while telling them to get the fuck out?  Yes.  But never nuzzling his face into the throat of one as he slipped pale, grey briefs up their thighs.

He had never seen half a dozen empty condom wrappers on the floor – evidence that he had broken his “once only” rule for a virgin trick.  And in that moment, Michael had known that Justin would turn their world upside down.  And he had.  He’d realized it only a few nights later, when he had seen Brian push two guys away from the slim, half-naked body that was covered in glitter.  And when Emmett had asked what Brian had been up to the following day, he had listened in disbelief as Brian said he had made it an early night.  He’d seen the smirk on his face, and had known that Brian had taken the blond home with him once again.

Michael sighed softly.  Brian had continued taking Justin home with him.  Resentment had burned in his veins, and he had taken to calling Justin names – horrible names that made his skin crawl with shame when he thought back on them.  But as time had gone by, he had gotten used to the fact that Justin was always two steps behind Brian.  He’d enjoyed working on the comic with Justin, and while he had been jealous of Justin’s artistic talent, he had also been really proud of it.  Proud of the comic they had created together, and proud of the fact that Justin had drawn all those panels, despite the pain in his hand.

But then he’d seen Ethan kiss Justin, and the resentment he had felt when Justin first came into their lives burned brighter than it ever had.  He hadn’t listened when Ben had warned him to stay out of it – he’d been filled with a sense of righteous indignation, and even after Justin had told him to mind his own business, he had gone running to Brian to spill his guts.  And with that final, desperate lurch to ‘save’ Brian, Michael had not only destroyed the fragile relationship between the two men, but also the shaky cliff face that Justin had been clinging to.

_“You could have asked me what was going on with Ethan in plain terms, rather than assuming the worst of me.  You could have asked me if I had anywhere to go after I left him, instead of shutting me out; I could have been living on the streets for all you cared.”_

By destroying the trust and relationship between Brian and Justin, Michael had isolated Justin even further than he had already been feeling.  Justin had been right; Michael hadn’t thought any further than telling Brian what he had seen.  He hadn’t thought about where Justin would go.  He hadn’t thought about the fact that he would be homeless again if Brian kicked him out.  He’d seen a way of driving a wedge between them, and had run with it.  And in doing so, the very thing that made Justin the idealistic youth who had loved Brian so openly had been changed.             

No longer was he the pretty, blond youth who bounced up to Brian for a kiss, while wearing his heart on his sleeve.  That heart had been broken and battered; Justin had tucked his heart, and the emotions he had once worn so openly, behind the walls he had erected.  The man who now lived behind that pretty face held the entire family at arm’s length out of self-preservation.  He would meet up with Ted and Emmett for lunch.  He would take Gus from Mel for weekends.  He worked with Brian.  But he wasn’t letting any of them get any closer than that.

It was Emmett who had said it best – how could Justin learn to forgive any of them, when his mind was as clouded as it was?  How could he trust any of them, when they had all let him down at one point or another?  How could he accept their help, when at the time he had needed it most, they had all ignored it?  He’d been openly bleeding pain in front of them for months before he had left Brian, and not one of them had stopped to ask him if he needed help.

Time machines don’t exist; neither do superheroes in capes and masks.  But God, Michael wished they did.  If he’d known… God.  He would never have turned Justin away when the young man had asked him if they could talk about the bashing.  That day haunted him.  He would have grown some balls and led Justin into his apartment.  Made him some tea the way Emmett did in the past when Michael had needed to vent.  And he would have listened to whatever it was that Justin had to say.

He would have been the friend that the young man had so desperately needed.  Michael paused as the thought ran through his head.  _Friend_.  No, that word was wrong.  He had shared a kinship with Justin; Michael winced.  He should have taken that role more seriously, instead of letting his insecurities and jealousy get the better of him.  He should have tucked Justin close, and looked after him.  Not because he was a kid, but because they shared his mother.  That made him a brother in some ways… didn’t it?  It made him family.

The realization tore something inside Michael’s chest; rubbing over the area, he steadied his breathing as the thoughts ran through his mind.  He needed to talk to Ben.  He needed to share this revelation with his partner, and try to figure out once and for all how to go about moving forward.  Pulling his wallet free to leave some money to cover their bill, Michael looked up in surprise when someone slid into the opposite side of the booth.

Todd’s face was troubled, and he smiled weakly as Michael looked at him.  It was the look on his face that kept Michael in his seat, and he tilted his head slightly as Todd opened and then closed his mouth several times before he took a deep breath and then spoke.

“Michael, I need Brian’s number.”

Michael automatically reached for Todd’s hands when he saw them shaking where they rested on the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Todd shook his head helplessly.

“I, uh… I need to speak to Brian.  I haven’t seen him here recently, and when I went by the loft this morning, he didn’t answer the door.  I couldn’t see the jeep, so, I came here.”

Michael nodded even as he gently squeezed Todd’s clammy hands.

“Are you in trouble, Todd?” he asked softly, and Todd laughed weakly.

“No… no, I’m not in trouble,” he said finally.  

“Is Brian in trouble?” Michael asked, and Todd eventually shook his head after he searched Michael’s face.

“No… it’s about Justin, Michael.”

Michael felt his back stiffen, and he licked his lips before he leaned forward.

“What’s wrong with Justin?” he asked, and Todd lowered his eyes.  “Tell me, Todd!” Michael insisted when Todd remained silent, and the other man sighed.

“I, uh… I went to the gym this morning,” he said.  “I was in the locker room when I overheard some guy talking to one of his friends about a guy he had fucked the night before.  Normally, I don’t listen in on things like that – you fuck who you want, you know?  But the guy was freaked out – he was saying that he’d wanted to fuck this kid for so long, and he’d finally gotten the chance the night before.  He’d thought they’d had fun, but when he woke up in the morning, there was blood on his sheets.”

Todd licked his lips again as he shook his head, and Michael fought to keep his composure as Todd gathered his thoughts.

“The other guy asked him if he had spoken to his trick, and the guy said no – that you didn’t approach Justin Taylor after tricking with him, because he’d made it more than clear to everyone that it was a one-time thing.  Then he said that there had been whispers that Justin wasn’t the same anymore – that he used tricking as a way of hurting himself.  This guy hadn’t believed the rumors, but from the amount of blood on his sheets, he would have had to have been hurting Justin when he was fucking him, yet Justin hadn’t said a single word.

“That’s when I made myself known, and I asked him what had happened.  He told me his name was Aaron – something that Justin hadn’t wanted to know – and he explained to me that he had been at Boytoy when Justin came in and they made eye contact.  Within twenty minutes of Justin getting there, he was in the alcove with this Aaron guy.  Aaron swore, Michael, that he had thought Justin was into it.  He fucked him once in the alcove, and then took him home where they fucked a couple more times.  It was only after he saw his sheets that he thought back over the night with Justin – he said that he didn’t think Justin had cum.”  

“What?” Michael managed, and Todd’s breath shuddered out.

“Aaron said there weren’t any cum stains on his sheets, Michael – only streaks of blood.  He said he had tried reaching for Justin’s cock when they were fucking, but each time he did, Justin would slap his hand away.  That’s when Mitch – his friend – spoke up and said that he had seen Justin in the alcove before, and that he treated all tricks that way.  Every time someone reached for his dick when they were fucking him, Justin would slap their hand away; that when he watched Justin’s face while he was being fucked, he always looked like he was out of it – he just wasn’t in the moment, you know?

“I said I’d contact Brian and find out what the fuck Justin was doing.  But then I remembered that they weren’t together anymore.   I figured that Brian would want to know, regardless, though, because I know that he’s been trying to sort out their relationship for the last couple of months.”

“What do you mean?” Michael asked, and Todd shrugged.

“It’s no secret on Liberty Avenue that Brian and Justin split up; the same as it’s no secret that Brian and Justin have been seen together more frequently over the last couple of weeks; generally, on a Sunday with Brian’s son.  A lot of the guys who were interested in Justin were pretty snarky about losing their chance with him now that he and Brian appear to be trying to sort their shit out.”

Michael nodded, even as his mind began to race.  He’d failed Justin in the past.  He’d failed Brian.  He wouldn’t fail them a second time.

“This Aaron guy; is he going to keep quiet about it?” he asked, and Todd nodded.

“Yeah; he’s more worried that he’s seriously hurt Justin than looking for a repeat fuck.”

Michael nodded again as he tossed some money down on the table.

“I’ll talk to Brian,” Michael said quietly.  “He’s not going to be happy about this, but he’ll take it better from me than anyone else, Todd.”

Todd tilted his head slightly and narrowed his eyes.

“Michael… I know you and Brian haven’t been talking recently.  Are you sure about that?” he asked, and Michael sighed heavily.

“Yeah.  This is my fault; I have to try, Todd.”

Todd simply nodded, and then pulled a business card out of his pocket.  Pushing it across the table, he gestured to the card.

“That’s Aaron’s number if Brian wants any more information; he said he’d be willing to talk to Brian, if it meant helping Justin.”

Michael picked the card up and tucked it into his pocket.  With a final nod to Todd, he left the diner; as he headed down Liberty Avenue toward his shop, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed.  The phone went through to voicemail, and Michael waited for the recording to finish before he spoke.

“Ben, can you please call me… it’s about Brian.”

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Michael carefully parked the car and then turned the engine off.  Staring up at the brick building on Tremont Street, he blew out a steadying breath.  Ben had offered to come with him to speak to Brian, but Michael had shaken his head.  This was his fault.  He needed to man up and begin the process of fixing it.  That had included the phone call with Aaron:

_“He wouldn’t let me kiss him; he said he doesn’t kiss anyone on the mouth.  He let me fuck him until he bled, but he wouldn’t let me kiss him… who does that?  Who uses sex as punishment like that?  I just don’t understand.  He acted like he was nothing but a piece of ass… like he was nothing more than a glory hole.  I feel like I fucking raped him.”_

Michael shuddered when he thought about the trick he had spoken to that afternoon – the guy was friendly; he had been open and honest when he and Michael had spoken, and Michael had been left with a heartbreakingly clear picture of just who Justin was now as a man, and how he thought of himself.  Blond boy ass.  The trick who wouldn’t leave.  Jesus.  Pushing his hand through his hair, Michael again wished for a time machine, because how the fuck was he meant to put things right if this was what Justin was doing?

How was he supposed to face Brian and tell him that his ex-lover was still following their most important rule?  He’d never understood the rules that the two men had put into place, but he knew that Brian had never liked seeing Justin kiss other men.  It was evident in the way he would pull Justin away from a trick and command the blond’s full attention when he tried to swallow Justin whole, or in the way Brian would pull Justin into his lap, regardless of where they were, and spend an hour kissing the young man in his lap until he was reduced to a squirming mess.

Climbing out of the car, Michael locked the door and turned towards Brian’s building.  But as he started to cross the street, he was surprised to see a slim blond walk out of the building and turn down the street.  Michael would have known that head of hair anywhere.  Hope bloomed in his chest, and Michael quickened his stride as he called out to Justin.  Justin paused as Michael hurried towards him, but when he glanced over his shoulder as Michael drew closer, Michael stopped mid-step.

“Are you talking to me?”

Michael licked his lips as he stared at the blond.  From behind, the guy was a dead ringer for Justin.  Slim built, with tousled blond hair, the guy was as twink-like as they came.  Pale skin, and pale blue eyes.  Navy blue cargo pants that hung from narrow hips, and a tightly fitted, long-sleeved, red top.  Either all twinks shopped at the Gap, or this guy had been given specific instructions on how to dress.

And as Michael ran his eyes over the guy, he came to a second heartbreaking discovery when the blond cocked his hip and ran practiced eyes over Michael’s body.  This blond was a hustler; high class, but a hustler all the same.  Glancing between the building and the blond, Michael licked his lips and gestured weakly.

“Sorry,” he managed.  “I thought you were someone else.”

The guy shrugged and continued along the street to wherever it was that all good hustlers went.  Sinking down onto the steps of Brian’s building, Michael tried, and failed, to hold back the tears that were burning his eyes.

_“I would have lost him… fuck, I **have** lost him!  And for what?  A fucking kiss between friends?”_

Michael closed his eyes as he silently cried.  Because of him, Brian had been reduced to buying sex from a guy who looked like the young man he had lost.  Because of his inability to let Brian grow up in case he left Michael behind, he had deliberately destroyed the relationship Brian had been easing into with Justin.  His actions had done this; his insecurities, and his resentment.

Wiping his face with his sleeve, Michael stood up and picked through his keys.  But as he went to open the door to Brian’s building, he paused.  He had thought nothing of letting himself into Brian’s loft in the past.  Even after Justin had moved in with him the second time, he had thought nothing of entering the place that Justin and Brian had called home.  He couldn’t recall how many times he had walked in on them having sex.  Watching some show on TV together.  Eating dinner.  Justin doing homework while Brian quietly offered advice.  Taking a shower.

Michael lowered his hand slowly.  Living together.  Not a trick.  Not a fuck who wouldn’t go away.  They’d been living together, the same as he and Ben.  Sharing a life.  Swallowing hard, Michael shoved his keys back into his pocket; he’d lost the right to barge into Brian’s loft when Justin had moved in with him.  Lifting his hand, he pushed the button for the intercom; it felt strange beneath his fingers.  He hadn’t had to push that button in several years.       

_“Yeah?”_

Licking his lips when he heard Brian’s voice, Michael spoke quietly.

“It’s me.  Can I come up?”

The silence was deafening; thick with tension, it made the back of Michael’s neck prickle.  And when Brian remained silent, Michael reached out and pressed the intercom button again, and spoke quickly.

“Please, Brian.  I know you don’t want to talk to me.  I know you’re angry.  I wouldn’t come here if it wasn’t important.”

_“Go away, Michael.”_

Brian’s voice was weary; he could hear the underlying fatigue in his friend’s voice.  Shame caused his shoulders to hunch forward, but he pressed the button again and closed his eyes when he heard the desperation in his own voice.

“Brian… please.”

_“Go home, Michael.”_

Michael bit his lip and then pushed the button once more.

“Brian… it’s about Justin.”

For a minute there was only silence.  But then he heard the locks on the front door disengage, and Michael had to rest his hand against the wall for support when his knees threatened to give out from underneath him.  If he’d had any lingering uncertainties about Brian’s feelings for Justin, they were now gone.  There was no doubt in his mind over the fact that if he wasn’t there regarding Justin, then Brian wouldn’t have let him in at all.

He climbed the stairs slowly, using the time to try and organize his thoughts into some coherent order.  The door to the loft was open an inch when he reached Brian’s floor, but he hesitated to open it.  The same thoughts he had had earlier ran through his mind, and Michael knocked rather than roll the door back.  And when it did roll back a few moments later, Michael had to bite his tongue when he laid eyes on Brian.

Dressed simply in jeans, Brian crossed his arms over his bare chest and leaned against the door frame.  But when he cocked an eyebrow, Michael fought the urge to duck his head and rub his toe against the ground.  He’d seen that look before; he had seen it aimed at tricks who had tried to get a second go around.  Had seen it aimed at guys who had sought out Justin’s attention in front of Brian.  Irritation.  Distaste.  In all the years he had known Brian, though, he had never seen that look aimed towards himself.

“What do you want, Michael?” Brian asked, and Michael straightened his spine.

“May I come in?”

It was a politely made request; Brian stared at him for a long moment, before he pulled the door open a little further and walked deeper into the loft without comment.

Michael tucked his hands into his pockets to hide the fact that they were shaking before he stepped into the loft.  The thick stench of sex hung in the air, and it made Michael wonder how Justin had felt every time he came home to smell that cloying scent.  He left the door open behind him; that look had told him he still wasn’t welcome in Brian’s life, and despite how much it hurt knowing that, he also knew that what he had to speak to Brian about was liable to set the other man off.  And when Brian turned to face him, Michael spoke quietly.  Calmly.  And he told Brian everything that Todd and Aaron had said.    

If it hadn’t been for the color steadily draining from Brian’s face, Michael would have thought that Brian hadn’t heard a word as his face froze into a blank mask.  But then Brian sank down onto the couch and threaded his fingers through his hair as he hung his head.  Swallowing hard, Michael took a few more steps towards him.  His hands were still shaking, and he clenched them into fists before he spoke hoarsely.

“I am so sorry, Brian.”

Brian shook his head but sat back against the couch.  Staring at the man he had known for so long, Michael shuddered when he saw the pure misery on Brian’s face.

“This is all my fault.”  Michael managed to push the words past his teeth, and Brian looked up slowly.  “If I hadn’t told you… if I hadn’t said anything…”

Michael broke off and shook his head as he lowered his eyes.  But then Brian’s voice broke the thick silence.

“You’re not the only one at fault in this, Michael.”

Michael looked up slowly, and saw that Brian was staring at the floor just beyond the couch.  His throat was working convulsively, and when he looked up at Michael, his face was haunted.

“What you said to Justin?  I can’t… I still don’t understand how you could have said something like that to him.  But Justin tricking?  That isn’t your fault.  That’s on _me_.”

Michael closed the distance between them and sank down onto the couch near his lifelong friend.  Reaching out hesitantly, he briefly touched Brian’s knee and then shook his head when Brian glanced at him.

“You taught him to be safe, Brian; but what he’s doing?  That’s _not_ safe.”

A wry smile twisted Brian’s mouth, before he shook his head again.

“I taught him to fuck who he wants, whenever he wants, Michael.  I taught him that sex doesn’t mean anything… certainly not matching Vera Wangs or commitment.  Sex is maximum pleasure, minimal bullshit.”  He laughed softly.  Bitterly.  “I taught him that… all but fucking choked him with it as I shoved it down his throat.  And he taught me how empty that kind of sex was.  That the best fuck is with someone who knows every inch of your body, because they’ve been there long enough to learn what really fucking gets you off.”

Turning on the couch slightly, Michael looked at Brian for a few minutes before he gathered his courage and then spoke.

“Brian… why him?”  Brian turned his head slowly, and when he met Michael’s eyes, Michael licked his lips and gestured helplessly.  “Seriously… what was it about him?”

Brian sighed and looked back towards the floor.

“Alex asked me the same thing,” he said finally.  “At first, it was because of how fucking innocent he looked that night.  I had to have him… After that?  I still had to have him.  He’s… like the best high I’ve ever had.”  Brian laughed quietly as his eyes softened.  “He kept up with me… he wasn’t scared of me… of my reputation.  He wanted it all with me… wanted me to teach him everything I knew… my boy.”

Michael blinked in surprise when the soft term left Brian’s lips, and he tilted his head slightly.

“He’s got a daddy kink?” he asked, and Brian glanced at Michael, nonplussed.

“No… why would you say that?” he asked, and Michael’s eyebrows rose.

“Because you called him your boy,” he said finally.  “It’s not the first time I’ve heard you call him that.  I figured that maybe he was into daddy kink.”

Brian shrugged, and glanced back towards the floor.

“Justin’s kink is more, more, more… he’s a greedy boy, Michael,” he said quietly, and Michael shook his head.

“Brian… Justin isn’t a boy; he’s a young man.”

Brian snorted, and rolled his eyes slightly.

“He still watches fucking cartoons in the morning, Michael,” Brian said, and Michael reached out once more to grasp Brian’s knee.

“Yeah… because he wants to be a computer animator, Brian.  He’s learning what he does and doesn’t like in animation; what catches his eye, and what bores the shit out of him.”

Brian looked at Michael with narrowed eyes, and Michael let out a huff of exasperation.

“Jesus, Brian; when we were working on Rage, Justin and I looked at several different comic books so that he could work out what style would suit the concept best.  Not all comic books are the same.  And not all cartoons are drawn and created the same way, either.  He got interested in animation as a kid because of that stupid submarine movie he loves – that’s what he wants to do with his life.  So, unless it’s _you_ with the daddy kink, then I suggest you stop thinking of him as a kid and start recognizing the fact that he is a man.”

“This coming from the man who openly hates him?” Brian asked dryly, and Michael flinched.

“I don’t hate him,” he said finally.  “I don’t.  I resented him because… that doesn’t matter,” he said firmly.  “What matters is how you see him… how you treat him.  And as I said, I didn’t know you were into that kind of kink.”

Brain dragged his hand down over his mouth, and then shook his head.

“I don’t have a daddy/son kink with him.  But I have to look out for him…”  he said softly.

“He’s been a man since he chose you over his family,” Michael interrupted flatly.  “Since he decided that he couldn’t live the lie that Jennifer and Craig wanted him to.  He’s been a man, Brian, since he was seventeen years old.  And unless you _see_ him as a man – as an equal – you’ll never get him back.”

Brian jerked back from Michael, but as he opened his mouth, Michael prevented him from providing any rebuttal he would have tried to voice.

“You have spent the last fifteen years looking after me, because I was too fucking weak to step up and take control of my own life.  I let you do that… I expected you to step in and fix my fuck ups.  I used our friendship and your reputation to make me feel better about myself, because when I failed, I could blame you for whatever had gone wrong.  My relationship with David is a prime example of that.  I called you my best friend, but what I was doing… what I _did_ , had nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with jealousy.

“I almost lost Ben over what I did and said; he told me to stay out of it, to not say anything to you.  To let you and Justin sort it out, because I might be wrong.  I ignored him, and he asked me when you all found out what I had said to Justin, how was he meant to trust me?  How was he meant to stay with a man who could be so unjustifiably cruel to someone who was a part of his family?  It’s taken us months of couple’s therapy with Tatiana to get to the point where I’m not shit scared that he’s going to leave me, but even after all that, he still doesn’t look at me the way he used to.

“But unlike me, Justin isn’t weak; he’s stronger than any of us, Brian.  You taught him everything he wanted to know about sex, but you didn’t teach him how to be a man.  To know what he does and doesn’t want.  Those things come from inside him.”  Michael laughed bitterly.  “If anything, he taught both of us what being a man looks like, and when I look in the mirror, I know that I am lacking.”

Michael blew out an unsteady breath as Brian continued to stare at him in silence.

“I should have listened to him when he told me to stay out of it… I should have given him the benefit of the doubt,” he said softly.

“Why didn’t you?” Brian asked quietly.  “That’s the one thing I never understood, Michael.  I tricked all the time… I expected him to put up with it, and he mostly did.  Why did his tricking make you think he was having an affair with Ethan?  What caused you to tell me he was cheating?”

Michael could only shrug as Brian looked at him.

“I don’t know,” he said finally.  “I knew about the rules you had put in place, and when I saw him and Ethan in the street that day, I thought he was betraying you.  I couldn’t let it go, Brian… I was trying to look out for you, the way you had always looked out for me.  I had been there, waiting for you to decide it was time we got together.  And then Justin walked into our lives, and it was like you forgot that I existed.  I know it would have never worked between us, Brian.  I know that now.  But seeing you with Justin… the way you were at the hospital after the prom… I had to protect you.  And as I said, you seemed fine the night I told you at Babylon.”

It was Brian’s turn to laugh softly.  Bitterly.  And when Michael looked towards him, he saw that Brian’s hand was shaking as he dragged it down over his mouth.

“What did you say to him?” he asked timidly as he recalled the half-told story that Brian had admitted to, and Brian’s face twisted briefly.

“It wasn’t only what I said,” he said finally.  “It was what I did, Michael.  I waited here… I waited until he came home.  I could smell the sex on him, and he wanted to have a shower… I told him that I didn’t care that he was sweaty… I wanted to smell _him_.  His scent.  He asked me to wait, to let him shower.  I ignored what he said, and I kissed him.”  Brian’s eyebrows jerked slightly as his gaze drifted to the section of flooring in front of his feet, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse.

“By the time I dragged him to the floor, he’d stopped saying no.  He’d stopped trying to pull away.  And when he was finally compliant, when he was at his most vulnerable beneath me, I pulled back from him and I told him that he stunk.  To go take a shower.  And then I left him lying on the floor and went to Babylon.”

Brian swallowed before he looked towards Michael.

“He’d hurt me, so I hurt him back in the only way I knew how, to hammer home the message that I knew about Ethan.  I made him feel like he was nothing… like he was a piece of shit.  I left him there, and I went and stuck my dick in someone else.  I punished him for doing exactly what _I_ was doing.  What I’d taught him to do.  I did that to him… to someone who loved me, Michael.  I did that, because you’d told me that he was cheating on me.  I did that to him, after telling him that it wasn’t cheating when _I_ tricked because we weren’t in a relationship… after I would come home to him having fucked someone else, and expect him not to complain when I wanted to fuck him even though he could smell stale sex on my body.”

Michael’s jaw dropped; he knew it had, and he could do nothing about it as Brian pressed his lips tightly together.

“Jesus, Brian!  If Ben ever used my feelings for him against me like that, I’d kick him in the balls!” Michael said, and if it came out like a squeak, he could only blame it on shock.  Rubbing his chilled skin briskly, he shook his head in disbelief.

“I used to wonder why you never wanted a relationship with me,” Michael said finally.  “I used to tell Justin that gay men didn’t get to have monogamy, and that he was stupid for feeling hurt when you would trick.  Yet Ben and I are monogamous.  I demand that from him; you don’t cheat on someone when you have feelings for them.  You don’t use tricking as a form of punishment against them.  You don’t use their feelings against them.  You don’t… Jesus, Brian!  You just… don’t do things like that.

“I think I’d rather endure a bare-knuckle punch to the face, than a sneak attack like that!  At least you can see the punch coming and try to duck… but what _you_ did?  I don’t know if there is any way to come back from that, Brian.  Even if you do get back with him, he’ll remember it every time you have sex.  I know _I_ would.  How do you allow yourself to be vulnerable with someone when they have abused your trust like that?”

Brian recoiled, and his face drained of color.  Looking down at his hands, Michael shook his head once more.

“I can only apologize again.  Over and over until you believe me,” he said finally.  “It won’t change what I said and did.  It won’t change what has happened.  It won’t bring you and Justin back together.  But I’ll keep saying it.”  Pushing to his feet, Michael chanced a look at Brian.  The man’s face was slightly grey, and Michael licked his lips slightly as he watched Brian swallow convulsively.

“I hope you and Justin manage to sort things out, Brian,” he said quietly.  “I hope that you manage to get him back into your life.  You were good together; he made you happy, and I’m sorry that I didn’t see it sooner.”

Brian’s gaze lifted to meet Michael’s, who flinched when he saw the haunted look in those hazel eyes.  And with a final look at the man he had hurt, Michael let himself out of Brian’s loft and slowly closed the door behind him.


	31. Chapter 31

31.

_“How do you allow yourself to be vulnerable with someone when they have abused your trust like that?”_

Brian’s eyes snapped open, and his breaths shuddered out in quick pants as he was wrenched out of sleep and into wakefulness by a single question.  Sitting up slowly, he let the sheet pool around his hips as he dragged his hands down over his face.  He hadn’t been ready to see Michael yesterday.  He hadn’t wanted to hear any of the excuses he was sure that the other man would make.  But Michael hadn’t made excuses; it seemed that Justin’s suicide attempt had forced more than one person to change their behavior.

It had been hard enough listening to Michael retell what he had been told about Justin’s tricking.  But worse, it left Brian with the dawning realization of how Justin must have felt to hear Michael brag about Brian’s own tricking.  And layered on top of that bleeding wound was the realization that Michael wouldn’t have been kind to Justin when telling tales about Brian’s exploits.  He’d overheard Michael often enough to know just how arrogant the man could be when talking about his friendship with him. 

_“Brian doesn’t **believe** in boyfriends, or commitment, or love… He’s Brian fucking Kinney!”  “He’s **my** best friend.  Of course, I know who he is!”  “You’re just a trick who stayed too long.”_

It had hurt to listen to Michael talk about the fact that Justin had gone home with someone else.  He wasn’t stupid; he knew that Justin had been tricking long before Michael spilled his guts.  But it had been in an abstract kind of way – Michael had removed that dreamlike delusion, however, and had smacked him in the face with it.

And it had hurt; it had hurt to know that someone else had touched Justin in ways that Brian had once taken for granted.  That someone else had held him.  That he’d let someone else inside of his body.  But to know that he’d done all that to hurt himself?  That he’d bled afterwards?  That there had been no sign of release?  That had hurt most of all.  That knowledge had kept Brian awake far longer than other memory he’d had recently about Justin.

When exactly was it that Justin had turned pleasure into pain?  When was it that he had started to view sex as a punishment?  Was it after he had gotten out of the hospital the first time?  Was it when he had left the Rage party?  Or had it been before that?  Had he had something to do with it?  Had that last sexual encounter with him turned Justin onto this dark, twisted path that he was currently drowning in?  Brian shuddered as the ghostly echo of his voice whispered through the air; filled with revulsion, it hid just how badly he had been hurting while thinking that Justin had been cheating on him. 

At the time, he had been angry.  But after Michael’s reaction, he had put himself in Justin’s position; he had remembered the encounter in all its ugliness.  And in doing so, he had begun to realize exactly what it was that he had done.  He could argue the fact that he was hurt.  Humiliated.  Angry.  But when it came down to it, he’d been jealous.  The last time his jealousy had gotten the better of him, he had pissed all over hours of painstaking work.  This time, however, he had deliberately hurt the person he proclaimed he needed more than anyone else.

He had told Justin once, early on in their relationship, that being on the bottom didn’t make him any less of a man because he was taking it up the ass.  If anything, it was an honor for the guy on top, because it took courage to let someone into your body; to open yourself to that position of vulnerability.  It had been Brian’s responsibility to care for Justin afterwards; to make sure that he hadn’t torn any of his delicate skin.

He had said that while he washed away traces of lube, cum, and sweat as Justin lay sprawled out on his back, too fucked out to even lift his head from the pillow.  Even in the early days, while he had been fighting how he felt about Justin, he had always taken care of him afterwards.  Despite how embarrassed Justin would get, Brian always took the time to check if he’d hurt him.  To go from that care and attention, then, to that last encounter… Brian dragged shaking hands down over his face.  To go from that, to making Justin feel like he was nothing but a trick… _Jesus_. 

Thinking back over those last few weeks, Brian shuddered.  The sex had been explosive between them – it always had been.  But the more Brian thought back, the more he began to realize something.  Justin had begun to face away from him during sex; there were only a few instances where Brian could remember seeing Justin’s face during sex, and those were generally when Justin had been riding him.  But even during those times, he’d tilted his head back; baring his throat, but hiding his eyes.    

Brian swallowed uneasily.  He’d loved pushing his hands over the smooth skin of Justin’s back.  Tracing lines between the faint freckles with the tip of his tongue.  To thread his fingers through pale hair as he watched his cock sink inside Justin’s body.  He’d loved using that grip on Justin’s hair to turn his head so that Brian could kiss him as Justin strained beneath him.  But with Justin on his hands and knees, or his stomach, or even bent over, he’d been able to turn his face.  He’d been able to hide his feelings from Brian’s keen gaze.  Justin had loved him.  He’d trusted him.  And he’d taken to hiding those emotions long before Rage.

Maybe Michael was right; even if by some fucking miracle he got Justin back, his lover would remember the last time they had been together every time he looked up at him.  Brian closed his eyes as defeat pressed down on him.  If he knew what it was that Justin needed, then he could try to provide it.  And the only way to learn what it was that Justin needed was to talk to him.  Brian nodded slowly.  He could do that.  He could ask.  All he had to do was lay all of his cards out on the table, and be honest.  Justin deserved that.  They both did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Art Department echoed with the scratch of pencil on paper.  Brian took a deep breath as he paused in the doorway.  He could see Justin from where he stood; blond head bent over whatever project he was working on, his hand in continual motion.  The tip of his tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth, and his expression was one of absolute focus.  Everyone else was at lunch; Brian could see the remains of a sandwich near Justin’s left elbow; as he watched, Justin blindly reached for it and popped a piece of it into his mouth, his hand continually moving the pencil across the page he was working on while he chewed.

Staring at the him, Brian tilted his head.  _A man_.  That was what Michael had said; that Justin was a man.  That if he didn’t stop thinking of Justin as a boy and start thinking of him as an equal, he wouldn’t get him back.  That Justin had been making his own decisions since he was kicked out of his family home.  And while Brian didn’t like those decisions, he was forced to admit that Michael was right – Justin wasn’t a boy.  Not anymore.   

_“I’m a big boy now; I make my **own** decisions, and I live with the consequences.”  “Any decision I tried to make for myself had to have your stamp of fucking approval all over it, because I couldn’t **possibly** know my own mind.”  _

Alex had tried telling him the same thing.  That their relationship had been an unstable power play.  Christ, even Justin had said it – that he couldn’t go back to feeling like a kept boy.  A boy who had grown into a man while Brian had been too busy looking for the ultimate fuck; a man who anyone would be proud to say was his partner.  Is that what Justin needed?  To know that Brian thought he was so much more than a tight ass?  That he was ready to be a partner who put him first?  That he wanted to be a partner who wouldn’t take him for granted?  Who wouldn’t humiliate him by chasing others in front of him?

Circling the room, Brian silently came up behind Justin and peered over his shoulder at what he was working on as Justin switched pencils.  The explosion of orange and red showed warmth and a sensuality that damn near reached off the page and choked you.  Justin’s fingertips were stained with the two colors, and as he switched pencils again, Brian let his eyes linger on his bowed head.  The sweater he was wearing was an icy blue, and as Justin shifted, Brian caught tantalizing glimpses of creamy skin beneath the collar of his shirt.     

It was the discoloration of that creamy skin, however, that had him taking a few steps back.  He knew what those bruises were – he’d put enough of them on Justin’s shoulders and back as he strained beneath him not to know what they were.  Hickeys.  Bite marks.  He hadn’t wanted to believe anything that Michael had said.  He hadn’t wanted to know something so personal about his lover.  Brian let out a shaky breath. 

He knew that Michael had thought that he had his best interests at heart, but it felt like the whole Ethan scenario all over again.  And because he knew that he had to tell Justin about Michael’s revelations, he knew that Justin was sure to take it that way – that someone he had once considered a friend had gone blabbing his personal business again.  And the results of Michael’s misguided information were more than Brian could bear.  Never again would he listen to outside interference without talking things over with Justin first.     

Taking a few more steps backwards, Brian cleared his throat.  Justin’s head snapped up, and he twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder.  But when he caught sight of Brian, the shame that washed over his face left Brian feeling physically ill.  He fought that feeling back as he eased his hip onto the desk behind him, and smoothed his hand down the crease in his pants.  Justin’s face eventually smoothed into the blank mask that Brian was so used to seeing, and his tongue peeked out briefly as he moistened his lips.

“How was school this week?” Brian asked in a desperate attempt at normality, and Justin shrugged even as surprise flittered across his face.

“It was alright.  I’ve finished up the paintings I’ve been working on for the last couple of months; my professor was happy with them.”

“What were they about?” Brian asked as he moved from the desk and sat down in the desk chair.

Justin’s face flickered briefly, before he glanced down at his hands, leaving Brian to wonder what had caused the brief look of discontent that had darkened Justin’s features.

“Love,” he said eventually.  “I had to paint what I thought love was.”

_Love_.  Brian swallowed as he recalled the soft sound of Justin’s devotion.  Those soft declarations had died away, until the silence that remained was deafening.  How did Justin view love now?  As betrayal and abandonment?  As unlocked doors and unfair double standards due to Michael’s interference?  Did this young man still love him?  Or had he lost sight of that love when he had opened his eyes in the hospital, and found himself alone for a second time? 

“And what did you paint?” Brian managed, and Justin’s mouth twisted slightly.

“Sam’s guitar.  Ethan’s violin.  Their hands,” he said finally as he twisted his fingers into clenched fists, and Brian’s heart sank when he caught sight of the unhappiness on Justin’s face.

He couldn’t let this go on.  Not like this.  Not without finding out if he and Justin even had a future.  He could be the man that Justin had seen that night at prom.  He just had to be brave and tell the one person who meant everything to him just how much he cared.

“What are you doing tonight?’ he asked when Justin remained silent, and Justin shook his head.

“Not much.  I’ve got an assignment to look over, but it isn’t due for a couple of weeks.  Why?”

“Do you want to come over to my place?” Brian asked, and Justin flinched before he shook his head.

“No, thanks.  But why?” he asked, and Brian bit his lip at the expression on Justin’s face. 

He knew heartache when it punched him in the face; he knew unhappiness when it stole the color from Justin’s features, and caused his eyes to cloud over in grief.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Brian managed, and Justin lifted his head to look at him.

“We’re talking now,” he said softly, and Brian licked his lips.

Everyone had said that Justin had been fluent in Kinney-speak; that he could read between the lines and hear what Brian wasn’t saying.  That he’d been able to read his gestures and actions, and _know_ what Brian had never had the courage to say.  But Justin had lost the ability to read him with a single swing of a bat.  And Brian had lost the young man he loved when he had desperately tried to stop the gush of hot blood as it ran down over his fingers.

But as he stared at Justin, Brian could barely hold back the shudder that wanted to wrack his frame.  It seemed that Justin’s blood had left more than just a stain upon his conscience; it seemed he had passed on his ability to read people, too, because Brian was damn sure that what he was reading in Justin’s silence was more than the simple statement that they were talking now.  No, Justin meant so much more than just that.

The look on Justin’s face pleaded for him to pull a Brian Kinney and not push the issue.  To be the Brian Kinney he had once known; the one who wasn’t willing to talk.  The one who would rather fuck his feelings away, than face them.  But he wasn’t that Brian Kinney anymore.  That Brian Kinney was gone; he’d walked out of his loft with a friend one Sunday afternoon, and had learned that the young man who meant so much to him had tried taking his own life.

“I don’t want to talk to you here, Justin.  I have things I need to say to you; things that I don’t want to discuss with you at work.  If you don’t want to come to the loft, then I’ll come to your place,” he said gently, and when Justin’s jaw clenched, Brian bit the inside of his mouth as he watched the warring emotions that crossed Justin’s face.  “Please, Justin.  It’s important,” he pressed.  And when Justin sagged in his chair but finally nodded, Brian’s eyes closed briefly in relief.

“Are you allowed to eat Thai in your meal plan?” he asked, and when Justin nodded, Brian rose to his feet.  “I’ll be there around seven; I’ll get us some dinner.”  Justin simply turned back to the piece he was working on, and with a final glance at the bowed head, Brian left the room as silently as he’d entered it.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Brian stored the last of the leftover Thai food in the fridge, and then glanced over at Justin as he finished up the dishes.  They had made small talk as they had eaten the food that Brian had brought with him; easy conversation about Gus, and a campaign that Brian had been working on.  Justin had quietly suggested a color change, saying that the blue background was cold and aloof, and that if he changed it to orange, it would add warmth and passion.  Brian had accepted his suggestion and thanked him quietly.  The surprise on Justin’s face had spoken volumes and had reinforced the decision that Brian had reached.

Heading into the living room, Brian sat down on the couch.  It was comfortable, and Brian sank into the cushions as he sat back.  He’d gone home after work to get changed, and as Justin walked back into the room, Brian was glad that he had taken the time to pull on a simple white tee-shirt and the worn jeans that he had chosen.  Justin himself was in sweatpants and a paint-stained sweater; as he sat on the other end of the couch, he pulled the sleeves down over his hands.  Brian tried not to wince at the way Justin shrunk into himself.

“Where’s Daphne?” Brian asked quietly, and Justin bit his lip briefly before he shrugged.

“She’s at a friend’s.  She said she’d be home by ten,” he said, and then looked up at Brian.

Knowing that they had a time limit – that Daphne would be home within a few hours – provided Brian with the metaphorical balls he needed.  Turning towards Justin, Brian spread his hands and then spoke.

“I owe you an apology.”

Justin shook his head and turned his eyes towards the floor.

“No, you don’t,” he said, and Brian huffed softly.

“Yeah, Justin, I do,” he said, and when Justin finally looked up at him, Brian swallowed and then pushed forward with his thoughts.  “I, uh… I didn’t react well when Michael told me about Ethan.”

Justin flinched at the soft statement, and he pushed up off the couch to move towards the kitchenette.  Brian briefly closed his eyes, and when he reopened them Justin had his arms wrapped around his waist, his chin lowered.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Brian,” Justin said in the silence that followed, and Brian stood up and crossed over to him.  Reaching out to gently slide his hands down Justin’s arms, Brian turned the blond to face him. 

There was misery in those eyes that Brian knew so well.  That misery matched the feeling in Brian’s gut, and he tugged Justin’s arms out from around his waist and took his hands.  Walking backwards, he slowly led Justin back to the couch, and sat down.  Justin eventually sat back down beside him in resignation, and the sigh that escaped his lips told Brian exactly how he was feeling.

“I should have spoken to you,” Brian said quietly as he stared at Justin.  “I should have just fucking asked you what was going on.  We could have saved a lot of… we could have avoided a lot of things that have happened.”

Justin shook his head, but he eventually looked at Brian.

“Whether we had spoken or not, Brian, we would have broken… I mean, we would have imploded anyway.  I knew that you didn’t want me anymore; whether it had been over Ethan, or Rage, or something else, we would have ended anyway,” he said quietly.  Brian blinked, and then shook his head.

“Didn’t want you?” he asked hoarsely, and when Justin lowered his eyes and nodded, Brian let out a bitter huff of laughter.

“Is that what you thought?” he asked, and Justin’s shoulders jerked.

“You were tricking all the time.  I’m not stupid, Brian… you couldn’t hide it.”

“Hide what?” Brian asked, and Justin finally looked back towards him.

“How unsatisfied you were.  I wasn’t enough to make you happy.  The more you tricked, the more obvious it became.”

Brian could only stare at Justin in growing horror. 

“Is that what you thought?” he breathed, and Justin grimaced slightly.

“It’s what I know, Brian,” he said finally.  “Actions, remember?  You showed me how unhappy you were.  How unsatisfied.  I didn’t need Michael telling me that – you showed me every time I came to your place and found wet cum stains on the bed.  I’d pushed my way into your life; I don’t blame you for trying to push me back out.  I just wish you’d talked to me.”

Brian shook his head as he shakily reached for his cigarettes.  Knowing what Justin thought – hearing it and seeing it from his point of view, he knew he had to speak about a lot more than what Michael had told him.  Lighting a cigarette, feeling the burn of it in his throat as he inhaled, he finally spoke as he stared at Justin through the twisting wisps of smoke that danced between them.

“You’re wrong.”

Justin’s face creased, and he took the cigarette that Brian offered him without comment as Brian searched his mind for the words he needed.

“Wrong how?” Justin finally asked, and Brian took the cigarette back from him when it was offered.

“My tricking had nothing to do with a lack of satisfaction, Justin,” he said quietly, “and everything to do with how I was feeling.  You’ve met my mother, but I never told you how I grew up.”

Justin shook his head, but there was a look on his face that said he already knew.  Brian sighed softly.

“Let me guess; Michael took it upon himself to tell you all about it, right?” he asked wryly, and Justin flushed.  “What did he say?” Brian asked, and Justin raised his hand to briefly bite his thumb before he finally spoke.

“That your father was a drunk who beat on you until you left home for college.  That Debbie and Michael welcomed you into their home when you were fourteen, and that every time you were beaten by your dad, you went to Michael and he looked after you.  That your mother was a shrew of a woman who hid behind her faith and turned her sherry-soaked eyes away whenever your father would hit you.  That you and your sister were close when you were younger, but that you don’t talk now.”

Brian nodded when Justin glanced at him, and taking a calming breath, Brian spoke frankly.

“First of all,” Brian said quietly, “I didn’t go to Michael when my dad kicked the shit out of me.  I went to Debbie.  It was Debbie who welcomed me into her house – who looked after me.  It was Debbie who would clean me up or take me to the doctor’s.  Not Michael.  He was too busy flapping his hands or freaking out to do anything but make noise.  Michael was my friend, Justin.  But it was Debbie who represented safety.  Do you understand?”

Justin’s face creased briefly before he nodded, and Brian silently cursed Michael for making his childhood a weapon that he could wield against Justin.  

“Second of all, Alex told me that I was using what my family life was like as an excuse not to let people get close to me.  That I had gotten myself out of that shit when I left for college, and that it was up to me to make the necessary changes to ensure my life was a happy one, with healthy relationships.  That my tricking, drinking, and drug use were a series of hopeless addictions that fed into the myth of who Brian Kinney was; a myth that Michael needed more than I did.  It was why Michael always said that I was Brian Kinney – best friend.”

Justin nodded again as Brian fell silent, and when his lips parted before he pressed them into a thin line, Brian smiled briefly.

“Alex said that despite what Michael said, I _do_ know how to have a relationship, because I had forged lengthy friendships with both Michael and Lindsay.  That I had formed a parental style relationship with Deb, and to some extent, Vic.  That I had been in a relationship with you, despite what I said and did to deny it.  It took me a while after he told me that to realize why I pushed you away.  Why I tricked the way I did.  Why I made you feel like the loft wasn’t your home – our home – even though it was.”

Brian fell silent until Justin finally tucked his hair behind his ear and raised his eyes to meet Brian’s.  And when those pretty blue eyes met his, Brian licked his lips and then spoke quietly.

“More than anyone else in my life, you had the power to hurt me, Justin,” he said softly.  “But you never did.  Not knowingly.  Not willingly.  I didn’t know how to trust that.  Friendship – relationships – always seemed to come with a price tag attached.  Michael demanded that I live the lifestyle that he didn’t have the courage to.  Lindsay wanted my devotion to her and _only_ her.  Even Ted and Emmett seemed to live through me.  They were all quick to criticize, but only Deb seemed to want more for me, even though she also wanted me to look after Michael.  

“And then I met you.  I kept waiting for you to make demands.  But the only thing you ever asked of me was confirmation that you meant something to me.  I thought that you would want more -demand more - if you knew that I cared about you.  I was unwilling… unable… to let you into my life the way you needed, to open up and talk to you the way that you deserved, whether it was about Chris Hobbs and what he did to us, or about how I felt when it came to you.”

Justin’s eyes dropped from his, and Brian blew out an unsteady breath.

“I knew you were unhappy.  But you were loyal – I knew that you wouldn’t leave me, despite how unhappy you were.  That’s why I fucked Rage; I put my own happiness aside to ensure that you would reach for your own.  I knew you’d walk away that night, Justin.  I left you with no choice but to walk away.  That didn’t mean that I didn’t want you, though.  I didn’t know _why_ you were unhappy; I just knew that in order to let you find the happiness you deserved, I had to let you go.  So, I did.”

Justin’s face creased slightly as his teeth sank into his bottom lip.  And when he finally looked across at Brian, the brunet could see the questions swimming in those clouded eyes.  Brian managed not to smile – it seemed he was becoming fluent in Justin-isms.

“After you were bashed, I tricked, Justin, because I could take what I was feeling - the guilt, and the anger, and the pain - and I could fuck it into someone else.  You said that I treated you like a trick… I didn’t.  Not knowingly.  Those feelings… I couldn’t take them out on you.  Not that way.  You could barely cope with me touching you as it was.  Surely you remember that.  It took us nearly two months to get to the point where you didn’t flinch when I put my hands on you.  And then you changed… we _both_ changed.”

Justin nodded; Brian had treated him like glass when they were in bed together after the bashing.  And within weeks of that, Justin had started to spiral out of control as depression sank its claws into his damaged brain - before it had torn them apart.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you.  I didn’t know how to find the words,” Brian said hoarsely.  “I didn’t know how to reach out to you, and ask you what was wrong.  And the more you seemed to cling, the more I pulled away.  I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t talk to you about your prom.  I just couldn’t.  What you went through afterwards… the headaches, and the cramps in your hand - it just added to the guilt I was already feeling. 

“I was trying to stay on top of everything; Gardner taking over Ryder’s, Ben ending up in the hospital… my old man suddenly wanting to know about my life because he was dying.  I took what I was feeling, and rather than talk to you, I tried to fuck it away.  And then Michael told me that you were cheating on me with Ethan.  I didn’t know how to cope with that; with the jealousy, and the betrayal that I was feeling.  It blindsided me.  But that doesn’t excuse what I did.  And I am so sorry that I hurt you that way.”

Justin’s face bloomed with color and he shook his head as he turned his eyes towards the floor again.  “It’s not your fault,” he muttered.  “I knew I’d hurt you.  I’d broken those stupid fucking rules that I demanded of you.  Was it fucked up?  Yeah, it was.  But you had every right to be angry with me, Brian.”

Brian turned fully on the couch so that he was facing Justin, and then reached out to lay his hand lightly on Justin’s knee.

“No, Justin, I didn’t.  It was fucking hypocritical of me.  I’d been tricking a lot more than usual.  How could I react the way I did, when you were doing what I’d taught you to do?”

Justin shook his head slightly and then glanced at Brian.  “You didn’t teach me to be dishonest.  You have always been brutally honest with me.  You followed the rules… I didn’t.  That’s not your fault, Brian.  It’s mine.”

Brian rolled his lips inwards briefly as shame colored Justin’s face even more, and he was unable to stop himself from reaching out and wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulders.  For a brief moment, he thought that Justin would push him away, but then he relaxed, and Brian was able to pull him into the curve of his body.  Wrapping both arms around him, Brian brushed his mouth across the top of Justin’s bowed head, and then pressed his lips to the soft hair under his mouth.

“How’d you break the rules, Justin?” he asked quietly.  “By kissing a virgin?  By tricking with guys that you knew?  Seriously, why do you think you broke them?” he asked, and Justin sighed before lowering his head to the curve of Brian’s shoulder as the other man sank back into the softness of the cushions.  Huddled together, wrapped up in Brian’s arms, Justin finally spoke.

“The virgin… Eric… I felt so guilty about him.  I remembered how well you treated me the night we met.  I didn’t kiss him until after I’d fucked him.  I treated him so badly, Brian… both that night, and the following day when he came looking for me at the diner.  I hurt him… I hurt his feelings.  And yet he still tracked me down and asked me out to dinner when he heard that I was… not with you anymore.  And when I turned him down, I hurt him again.”

Brian closed his eyes when Justin stumbled over what to call their relationship, and tightened his arms around the slim body that he held.

“So, you kissed him to make him feel better.  So that he wouldn’t feel used… correct?” Brian asked, and when Justin nodded, Brian brushed his lips over Justin’s head again.  “That’s called being kind, Sunshine.”

“I still broke the rules,” Justin mumbled, and Brian tilted his head so that he could see Justin’s face.

“Do you need forgiveness, Justin?” he asked curiously, and when Justin jerked within his arms, Brian smiled slightly and turned his head so that he could rest his cheek against Justin’s head.  “If you need it, then you have it, though there is _nothing_ to forgive on my behalf.  What happened with Ethan and Sam?”  

Justin shrugged, but then spoke when Brian remained silent.

“The night I prepared that picnic… I, uh… I’d been told by a guidance counselor at school that I was suffering depression, and PTSD, and that she highly recommended that I seek help.  She would recommend some people who could help me, but that it was a good idea to go home and tell you what was going on.  When I told Ethan what she had said, he agreed with her.  The picnic was his idea; I didn’t agree with it, but he said it would help…”

Justin broke off and shook his head as a slightly bitter smile crossed his face, and Brian briefly closed his eyes.  Ethan had been right – they all knew how _that_ picnic had turned out.

“Where did you go that night?” Brian asked quietly, and Justin fell silent for several minutes before he replied.

“After you left, I went to a bar on campus.  Got drunk, and I woke up at Daphne’s.  I went to Ethan’s place that night.  We drank wine, and I listened to a song that Ethan had been working on.  Laughed with Sam.  We ended up in bed together.  It was good, you know?  They didn’t see me as an extension of you.  They weren’t using me to get to you… they just wanted _me_.”

Justin’s voice trailed away, and Brian reached up to comb his fingers through Justin’s hair.  The strands were like silk between his fingers, and he shivered slightly at the length, somewhat disbelieving that he was finally able to feel the strands under his fingers like he had so often wanted to.

“And the second time?” Brian asked unevenly as he continued to play with Justin’s hair; the motion of his fingers was causing Justin to relax into Brian’s arms, and it took him a few moments to answer.

“It was a combination of things,” he said finally.  “The excitement I was feeling over watching all the hard work I had put into the comic come to life.  How excited they both were for me… how proud.  It just happened.”  Pulling away from Brian slightly, the look on Justin’s face was one of naked sincerity.  “I blurred the lines there, Brian.  I know I did.  But I swear, it was only once that I was with either of them that way.  I knew them… their names, and phone numbers.  But I swear, it was only once, you know?”

Brian nodded, and then pulled Justin back into his body.  And when Justin sagged against him, Brian brushed his lips over Justin’s head.

“Is that why you apologized?” he asked softly, and Justin nodded.  There was no need to clarify what apology Brian meant.  It was something that had haunted Brian for months.

“Yeah.”

Brian took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, his whole body shook.  As they sat huddled together, Brian felt each muscle in his body relax, releasing tension and pain that he had been tightly holding onto for month after month.  When he finally spoke, it was so softly that his voice barely stirred the silence between them.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Justin nodded, and Brian took another deep breath before speaking again.  “While I understand your thinking, I need _you_ to understand something.”  Justin rolled his head against Brian’s shoulder and peered up at him.  “You did nothing wrong.”  Justin blinked, and Brian shook his head.  “That night… the second time you were with them…”  Brian rolled his lips into his mouth as he lowered his eyes.  “What I did… what I said to you… I am so fucking sorry, Justin.”

Gold-tipped lashes swept down to cover Justin’s eyes, and he lowered his chin as he nodded.  For a half a second, Brian considered leaving it at that; but that was something the old Brian would have done.  It was why they were in their present situation.  Reaching out, he gently gripped Justin’s chin and tilted it up so that Justin had to meet his eyes.

“I know what you’ve been doing…” he began, and Justin jerked out of reach.

“What do mean you know what I’ve been doing, Brian?” he asked, and Brian bit his lip before sighing.

“Michael told me…”

He broke off when Justin rose to his feet, anger causing his face to flush.

“Michael told you… he told you _what_ , Brian?  What was it that I did this time?  That I was drowning kittens?  Huh?  Tripping little old ladies as they crossed the road?  What is it that Michael has decided I have done wrong _this_ time?”

Brian shook his head, and reached out to grasp Justin’s hand.  But when Justin shrank away from him, he sagged in defeat.

“He said that what I had done to you that night was wrong… that I had to stop viewing you as a kid and see you as a man,” he said helplessly, and Justin snorted.

“What gives him the fucking right to say anything?” he spat.  “I know he thinks he is the all knowledgeable fount of information when it comes to you, but he doesn’t fucking know _me_!  He has _no_ fucking right to tell you how to view people or how to feel about shit that you have done!”

“Justin, he’s trying to help,” Brian said, and Justin shook his head.

“How can he help you, Brian, when if what Emmett has said is right, you haven’t spoken to him in months?  How is that helping?  Huh?  How is he helping you, when he has no idea what you’re thinking or feeling?  What did he say?”

Brian could only blink in surprise, and when his mouth opened and closed a few times, Justin resumed his place on the couch.  Stuttering over the words, Brian slowly went over what Michael had said the night before.

“He, uh… he said that what I had done to you was a sneak attack… that I would be lucky to regain your trust after it… that the way you were tricking was dangerous.  Apparently, he spoke to the guy you went home with the other night; he said that the guy was pretty upset, because he had fucked you until you bled.  He said that I had a daddy kink…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Justin near exploded off the couch, and he dragged his hands through his hair as he paced back and forth a few times.  But when he spun around to face Brian, the look on his face was pure anger.

“What happened between us… was it fucked up?  Yeah, it was.  But I get it, Brian.  _I get it._   You were angry, and someone that you trusted told you that your… that I was cheating.  Do I wish you had asked?  Of course, I do!  But fuck, Brian!  That wasn’t an attack… not like the way he is insinuating.  As for my tricking… I already _know_ that I fucked up the other night.  I knew it when I woke up at the guy’s house.  That isn’t on _you_ … that’s on _me_.  Those are _my_ issues.  And as for you having a supposed daddy kink, so what!  Whose business is it, but ours?”

Justin’s voice echoed through the apartment, and in the silence that followed, Justin blinked.  His eyes darted towards Brian, and as Brian stared at him, Justin’s mouth opened and closed a few times before his expression crumpled and he raised his hands and covered his face.

“Justin?”

Brian whispered his name, and Justin dragged his hands down over his face before he looked at Brian and managed a wobbly smile.

“It was _our_ relationship, Brian,” he said quietly.  “Ours.  Not his.  You want to know why we crashed and burned?  Because of Michael.  Because he can’t keep his fucking nose out of shit that doesn’t concern him!  And even now… he’s still interfering.  Even when I won’t go near him, and you don’t want to talk to him… he’s _still_ interfering.”

Brian forced himself to keep breathing steadily as he stared at Justin; there was a new look on the face of his lover.  An awareness that had been missing for so long that Brian had gotten used to not seeing it there.  And as he stared up at Justin, the blond wiped his face impatiently as he smiled wanly.

“It was _our_ fault, Brian.  Not yours.  Not mine.  Ours.  I stopped listening, I stopped speaking up, and then I stopped trying.  I can’t blame you for something that isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not your fault, either, Justin,” Brian said quietly, and Justin snorted softly as he shook his head.

“Yeah, it is, Brian.  I knew who you were going into it.  It’s not your fault that I wanted more than you were willing to give.  I can’t make you feel something that you don’t,” Justin said, and Brian sat forward on the couch.

“I do,” he managed, and the sad smile that crossed Justin’s face was heartbreaking in its simplicity.

“I know that you care,” he said softly.  “You told me that you did.  I just…. I wanted more.  I wanted you to love me, the way that I loved you.  I can’t blame you for what you do and don’t feel, Brian.  It doesn’t matter anyway… it’s over, right?  You live and learn.”

Justin blew out a deep breath in the thick silence that followed, and he pushed his hands through his hair as he turned towards the kitchen with Brian staring at him in shock. 

“Venerate!”

The single word stopped Justin in his tracks, and he slowly glanced over his shoulder at Brian, who was panting in the aftermath of near choking on the word.  His brows drew together as Brian rose to his feet, and Brian spoke quickly as the words tumbled out of his mouth and left the aftertaste of fear on his tongue.

“Venerate means to regard with great respect; to revere someone.  Synonyms included reverence, respect, worship, adulate, hallow, deify, idolize, hold sacred, exalt, honor, esteem, look up to, think highly of, pay homage to, pay tribute to.”

Crossing over to the blond, Brian looked down into eyes that showed both shock and anxiety, and he was unable to stop himself from cupping Justin’s face in his hands.

“It means love, adore, praise, hold in awe, stand in awe of, marvel at, value, holy, and sacred.  How am I meant to tell you that I love you, when I have used that phrase for Michael and Lindsay?  Because it doesn’t mean the same thing when it’s about _you_.  It doesn’t even come close… what else can I say to you, Justin, to make you understand?  What is it that you want in a… in a partner?  What is it that Justin Taylor _needs_?”

Justin moistened his lips as his eyes darted across Brian’s features before he raised his hands and clamped them tightly around Brian’s wrists as Brian’s hands slid from his face to his shoulders.  And when he finally swallowed, Brian felt a swift flash of heat rip through his body, as hope burned brightly in his gut.

“You never wanted to know before,” Justin whispered, and Brian shook him gently.

“I’m asking now,” he said firmly, and Justin swallowed again before he tilted his chin up.

“There’s a vast difference between what I want and what I need,” Justin said finally.  “I need to know that the man I’m with supports the decisions _I_ make about my life, and that he doesn’t try to make them _for_ me.  I need to know that he trusts me in all aspects… that he backs me one hundred percent.  That he respects me and the decisions that I make, even if he doesn’t agree with them. 

“I need to know that I come first; I need to know that he won’t take his fear and his shitty days out on me by humiliating me.  I need to know that he loves me.  I don’t need to hear it every day, or have him gushing about it to perfect strangers, but when actions don’t reflect feelings?  It’s awfully hard to believe that someone cares about you, when they are humiliating you and hurting you because they can’t articulate what _they’re_ feeling.

“I need to know that I can talk to him; that I can tell him what I’m thinking, and not be made to feel like some pathetic little sissy boy, because I need to talk about my emotions.  That is the one thing that Alex has said to me.  I can’t bottle it up or push it aside and never speak about it.  I need to know that I can tell my partner that I love him without being made to feel like it’s a weakness when it isn’t.  I don’t want to have to hide what I’m thinking or feeling.”

“Do you need monogamy?” Brian asked, and Justin snorted as Brian stumbled over the word.

“Again – want vs need.  And I don’t even know if I want that; who’s to say that I won’t come across some gorgeous guy who wants to fuck me?  I mean, I’m nineteen years old.  Maybe one day?  When both of us want it?  Sure.  But I’m not Michael – I’m not going to demand that from a partner, when I can’t even be sure that I can promise it myself.”

Brian’s jaw dropped, and Justin managed a wry smile as Brian blinked in surprise.

“Isn’t that what a partnership _is_?  A series of promises made between two consenting adults?” Justin asked, and when Brian nodded, Justin shrugged.  “That’s what I need from yo… that’s what I need,” Justin said quietly. 

“And rules?” Brian managed, and Justin shrugged again.

“I don’t think I was ready for rules, Brian.”

“But you want promises?” Brian asked, and Justin looked up sharply.

“What do you mean?” he asked, and Brian lifted his hand from Justin’s shoulder and scraped his thumb across his jaw.

“Are you ready to make a promise?” he asked, and Justin’s eyes clouded over briefly.

“No,” he said finally.  “I’m not.  I’m still too fucked up, Brian.  How can I make a promise to someone, when I can barely manage my day-to-day life right now?  I need to work on _me_ , before I can be what someone else wants and needs.”

_“He told me that he’d be whatever **I** wanted him to be if I would just take him home.”_

Brian shook his head as Ethan’s voice whispered in his mind, and his voice was firm when he spoke.

“I’m not talking about you making promises to someone else, Justin; I’m talking about the promises made between _us_ ,” Brian said.  “You told me something once.  You said that you knew who I was, that you didn’t expect me to change.  So, don’t you try to turn yourself into what you _think_ I want you to be… what you think I _need_ you to be, in order to be happy.  Because I _know_ who you are.  I don’t need you to change, Justin, to twist yourself into knots, or to live a lie… that’s not what I want.”

Justin compressed his lips briefly before he shook his head.

“What is it that you _do_ want and need, Brian?” he asked finally, and Brian lowered his head to press their foreheads together briefly before he straightened back up.  And when his breath shuddered out of him a moment later, he finally spoke.

“I need you in my life; I told you that.  In whatever capacity you can give me.  I need to know that you are working with Alex to sort your life out; I need to know that at the end of this, when you have finished working on _you_ , that you will be willing to work on _us_.  I need to know that it isn’t too late.”

Justin swallowed hard, and when he finally spoke, it was so quietly that Brian had to lean forward to hear him better.

“When I got out of the hospital the first time, Brian… I came by the loft.  Because I needed to know if it was too late.”

Brian’s eyes widened as Justin’s lips parted several times as he tried to voice what he was thinking about.  And when he finally looked up, he twisted his mouth into a semblance of a smile and shrugged. 

“You, uh… you weren’t alone.  And I knew it was over.  You were back doing what you wanted…   And I swore to myself that I would never let anyone get that close to me again.  What you’re asking…”

He dropped his eyes and shook his head, and Brian reached out to grasp his chin.  Tilting Justin’s face up, Brian managed to smile, even though it felt like a grimace.

“I can’t even remember the first six weeks after Rage, Justin.  I spent that time drugged out… drunk… _anything_ to make it all stop.  Pain management… I didn’t know how to function, so I didn’t.  I thought you were with Ethan – happy, healthy, and in love.  I didn’t _know_.” 

“And now that you do?” Justin asked, and Brian dragged his thumb over an alluring bottom lip, and then slid his hand across Justin’s neck to cup the base of his skull.

“I’m still waiting for you to tell me what to say to you, so that you know how I feel,” Brian said as he took a step closer.  “I’m still waiting for you to tell me that it isn’t too late.”

“Why do I have to be the one who comes up with the words?” Justin asked, and Brian rolled his lips into his mouth to hide his smile when he heard the annoyance in Justin’s voice.

“Because you are so much braver than me,” he whispered. 

 Justin’s eyebrows drew together, and he shook his head slightly.

“I’m not brave, Brian,” he said quietly.  “You said that I have the power to hurt you; we both know that you have the same power over me… I just don’t… I mean…”

Brian licked his lips and nodded, and then took a steadying breath.

“I’m not the same man I was, Justin,” he murmured.  “Neither of us is; you said you aren’t ready for the rules.  I don’t think either of us was.  Rules can be broken.  Promises, though?  Neither of us break those.”

Justin nodded, and when he finally looked up and locked eyes with Brian, Brain smiled briefly as he carded his fingers through that soft blond hair.

“Want vs. need, right?  I’ve told you what I need.  What I want, though, is to continue doing what we’ve been doing while you work on _you_ with Alex.  And I’ll do the same thing; there are still things I need to fix within myself.”

“And what have we been doing?” Justin asked, and Brian grinned.

“We’ve been getting to know each other.  Occasionally having lunch together at work.  Going out to dinner.  Spending time with Gus.”

“That sounds suspiciously like dating, Brian,” Justin said with a wry smile, and Brian gaped at him before he tilted his head back and deliberately scanned the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” Justin asked, and Brian smiled as he looked down at Justin.  Rolling his lips into his mouth for a second, Brian then smirked.

“Well, I wasn’t struck down by lightning, so, I guess it’s safe to say we _have_ been dating,” he said, and when Justin’s face lit up in surprised amusement, that precious emotion was reflected in the sound of his laughter echoing softly around them. 

Looking down at him, basking in the sight of that sunny smile that had lit up not only Justin’s face but his eyes as well, Brian held his pride close to his chest and hugged the feeling it gave him.  He’d caused that smile.  He’d caused the laughter he could see dancing in Justin’s eyes.  But then Justin’s face grew sober, and he licked his lips before he spoke hesitantly.

“You said we were getting to know each other, Brian… that’s all I can give you.  I can’t go back to how things were… I can’t…” he whispered, and Brian swallowed thickly before he nodded.

“I just want a chance to work this out with you,” he managed.  “That’s what I need.  A promise from you that you’ll try.”

Justin nodded, and when Brian lowered his head to rest his forehead against Justin’s, it was Justin who tilted his head back and brushed his lips lightly over Brian’s.  A ghost of a touch; a silent promise from those tempting lips, and Brian’s knees wobbled as Justin immediately lowered his chin.  But when Brian slipped his arms around him, Justin returned the embrace and rested his forehead against Brian’s shoulder.  Holding him, being held in return, Brian let out a shuddering breath; he closed his eyes, and luxuriated in the knowledge that he had asked for what he wanted, and had been promised a chance for his bravery. 


	32. Chapter 32

32.

Justin wasn’t sure what woke him, considering how bone-deep tired he was.  He had a hazy memory of Daphne waking him earlier; he had curled up on the couch after talking things out with Brian and had fallen asleep with the soft rumble of his voice echoing through the air.  There was the vague recollection of warm arms being wrapped firmly around his waist, and a solid presence at his back as he stumbled down the corridor to his bedroom.  Of a quiet voice telling him to sleep; that he was okay, that he was going to be fine.  And as the sound of Brian’s voice whispered through his mind, Justin opened his eyes.

That conversation with Brian had cracked the walls he had fought so hard to erect; he had hidden behind those walls for so long, that now they were on the verge of collapse, it left him feeling wrung out, both physically and emotionally.  For so long, he had been convinced that he had meant nothing to Brian.  For so long, he had carried the misery and loneliness of losing the man he had fought so hard to be with; he had thought that there was something wrong with him – something that he inherently lacked – that had caused the downfall of their relationship.  But then Brian had said it:

_“How am I meant to tell you that I love you, when I have used that phrase for Michael and Lindsay?  Because it doesn’t mean the same thing when it’s about **you**.” _

Brian’s voice had shaken as he spoke; and while that shaken tone had shown fear and nerves, it had also rung with conviction.  Brian hadn’t just been saying it to placate him; he’d meant it.  And with that simple sentence, Justin had finally heard what Brian had been trying to tell him for the last few months.  Venerate.  Brian didn’t just ‘care.’  He didn’t just want Justin’s ‘friendship.’  He wanted it all.  And with his depression blinding him to Brian’s actions, Justin hadn’t heard what Brian had been unable to say until the man had all but smacked him in the face with it.

That emotional blow had gone hand-in-hand with the sudden epiphany of what he and Brian had lost.  It had been _their_ relationship; their fault.  He hadn’t realized just how far down the slippery slope he had fallen until that moment; he had been far too consumed with blaming himself, with trying to understand what he lacked; with trying to keep Brian at arm’s length out of self-preservation, to realize that it took _two_ people to make a relationship work or fail.  But when that relationship included a third, unwanted person, who had been determined to drive them apart?  They hadn’t stood a chance.

And with that clarity came several other moments of pure lucidity; moments that had drained Justin of the conviction that he was _right_ in how he assumed other people perceived him.  Because if his depression had blinded him to this, what else had he been blinded to?  What other cues had he missed?  And in the moments that followed, rationality had rained down on his head for the first time since he woke up after Hobbs had bashed him.  Frightened by the intensity of his thoughts, he had shoved them into a locked box in his mind – he would unlock that box when he was within the safety of Alex’s office, and the other man could help him deal with the emotional fallout.

And as he reeled from the proverbial light switch being turned on in the darkness of his mind, Brian had asked him to make him a promise.  Instead of holding Brian at arm’s length as those hazel eyes had burned down at him in desperation, he had made Brian the promise he had demanded to hear - the promise that he would continue to work on fixing his mind, and the promise to try.  To continue letting Brian get to know him.  The promise that he would let Brian back in.            

Rolling his head slowly against the pillow, Justin remembered something else as his eyes took in the glowing numbers on his clock.  Three a.m.…  His memory told him that he had reached for Brian’s hand when the other man had tugged the covers up over his shoulders.  The mere thought of being alone after the emotional confrontation with Brian had caused chills to pimple his entire body.  He hadn’t verbalized it, but it seemed that Brian had learned to read his unspoken needs, because he had eased himself down beside Justin on the bed and slipped his arm under Justin’s neck.  In the warmth of his bed, held firmly against the solid presence of Brian’s chest, Justin had closed his eyes and slept better than he had in months.  

Sliding his hand across the bed, Justin sighed.  The bed beside him was empty - Brian was gone.  That is what had awakened him.  Closing his eyes again, Justin rolled away from the empty side of the bed and towards the wall where Gus normally slept when he stayed over.  Loneliness began to creep inside, taking away the kernel of warmth Brian’s presence had produced and leaving behind the chill and doubts that Justin had grown so used to carrying.  With his emotions acting like a yo-yo, he burrowed further under his blankets in an effort to warm himself, and to maintain the tenuous grip that he had on this new state of mind.

In the darkness of his room, Justin closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.  He needed to get some more sleep; Murphy had said that Vanguard had a major client coming in within the next week or so, and that Justin would get a chance to work on the campaign.  Gardner had also pulled Justin aside to tell him that there was a possibility that he might have to work with both him and Brian on this campaign – something about it being a major coup for Vanguard, because it had something to do with politics.  And as that thought ran through his mind, Justin wondered if it would make it easier now to work with his ex-lover because of their talk, or if it would make it harder.  

Brian had never been one for emotional confrontation.  He had never wanted to talk things out; he had always said that actions spoke louder than words, that words could be twisted and distorted.  Justin frowned as a new thought clouded his mind.  Had he pushed Brian into talking?  Into spilling those tightly guarded emotions at his feet?  And if he had pushed the man too far in the emotional confrontation they had found themselves in, what would Brian do to protect himself?  He always reacted badly when he was cornered; maybe Brian had decided that trying to work things out would be too hard – that Justin was too much work; that was probably why he had woken up alone.

Not that it would have been any easier waking up with Brian in the morning.  Justin had sworn to himself when he had moved in with Daphne that he would never let a man sleep in this bed with him.  That it would remain his bed, and his alone.  The dark memory of wet stains on the sheets momentarily stole his breath, and he exhaled shakily.  Jesus.  So much for that vow… his walls had cracked, and he had all but offered himself up to Brian on the proverbial silver fucking platter. 

Justin squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed convulsively.  Was he really thinking about giving Brian another chance to rip his heart out of his chest and stomp on it?  Was he really that dependent on the other man, that he was thinking about handing him what was left of his pride?  Was he really that fucking stupid?  Waking up alone told him all that he needed to know – Brian hadn’t ever wanted anything more with him than what they had had – and even that hadn’t been enough to keep him satisfied.  

Maybe he had gone to the baths to fuck someone after realizing that Justin wouldn’t – couldn’t – bend over for him.  It wouldn’t be the first time Brian had left him in bed and had gone to get his needs met – needs that Justin hadn’t been able to satisfy.  He hadn’t been enough back then – why the fuck did he think he would be enough to keep Brian satisfied now?  His brain was a broken maze of tangled up shit.  Blond boy ass – a novelty fuck.  One who couldn’t even get it up, let alone keep it up.  A trick who had stayed too long. 

The distant sound of the toilet being flushed shattered the quiet and jarred him out of the destructive voices in his head. 

Justin blinked, and fought back the stirrings of panic; he strained to listen to the sounds of the night, and forced himself to breathe steadily.  Quiet footsteps.  The clunk of the pipes as the water was turned on in the bathroom.  The soft click of Daphne’s door being closed.  Sitting up, Justin pushed his hands through his hair and took another steadying breath; he could feel the dark thoughts that had filled his mind hovering in the background, and he gritted his teeth as he forcibly shoved them away; clenching his hands into fists, Justin yanked at handfuls of his hair, and the pain in his scalp centered him as he panted.

The voices were _wrong_ \- Brian had told him he was enough, that his tricking had nothing to do with _him_ , and everything to do with how _Brian_ had been feeling at the time.  He had let doubt and insecurity fill his head before.  He couldn’t afford to let it win now; he couldn’t afford to wait to see Alex.  He had told Brian that he was a big boy now – capable of making his own decisions.  Maybe it was time he learned to deal with this shit on his own.  Crawling out of the safety of his bed took effort; he knew he wouldn’t get back to sleep now, and he reached out for the notebook that lived as a constant companion on his bedside table.  Maneuvering his way through the darkened apartment, Justin turned on a lamp in the living room and curled up on the couch. 

Opening the spiral-bound book, Justin ran his eyes over some of the earlier entries he had made.  He had fought Alex on filling in this journal, but as he read over his past words, Justin felt the first bloom of relief that he had begrudgingly done what Alex had asked.  This was proof of just how fucked up his mind had become.  These were his thoughts; his pain and humiliation, written down on paper.  And as he read over them, Justin was torn between keeping the words written down as a painful reminder or tearing the pages out of the book and committing the words to memory.  Jesus – no wonder everyone had looked at him as if he was one small breeze away from shattering!

It wasn’t that he had used words stating that he was a failure or anything like that; it was the overwhelming sense of self-loathing that coated his words.  The written down thoughts that echoed every derogatory insult that he had been told over the last two years.  When had he lost his confidence?  When had he lost the absolute conviction in who he was?  He’d been wrong - Brian hadn’t taken it from him; he’d lost it somewhere along the way.  He had gone from being in-your-face confident, to this shell of a person who had finally broken under the force of a hateful torrent of words.   

It took him an hour to read through his journal; an hour during which Justin realized just how far down the rabbit hole he had fallen.  When he was finished, Justin rested the book in his lap while he reached up to wipe away the wet streaks his tears had left behind.  He had told Brian that he couldn’t go back; that was the truth.  He couldn’t go back to where this twisted place in his mind was.  Blowing out a cleansing breath, he reached out to pick up one of his pencils; turning to a fresh page, he wrote a single phrase: 

_I’m Justin fucking Taylor.  And I’m stronger than this._

The tip of the pencil caught on the paper when he pressed too hard, and the curve of the letters he had written was slightly jagged.  But the words were there; his truth.  And as he stared down at his name, his thoughts and fears flowed out of him and onto the paper.  Alex had once told him that he was far stronger than he gave himself credit for.  He didn’t need to see Alex to purge the poison; he could do it here and now.  The conversations he had had with Brian – both past and present – were written down so that he couldn’t forget.  His fears.  His wants and needs.  His memories.  Those hateful fucking voices that threatened to tip him back over the edge.

Brian had apologized for what had happened after Michael had told him that he was cheating on him with Ethan.  He had said he hadn’t known – that he should have just asked him what was going on.  That scene in Brian’s loft played out through his mind in heartbreaking clarity; forcing himself to relive it, Justin clenched his jaw.  He’d felt dirty after Brian had left him on the floor – like he hadn’t even been worthy of being in his lover’s presence.  That feeling – the shame that had crawled over his body like ants – still made him shiver.

He’d told Brian that it didn’t matter, that he understood, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t.  Alex had said that he had been acting like a rape victim… Justin shuddered, and drew a blanket from the couch around his shoulders as he shivered in the predawn light.  He was sick of being a victim.  Poor little Justin – he got his head bashed in.  He got kicked out of his home, because his Daddy didn’t love him.  He couldn’t keep his lover satisfied, and he let everyone around him use him as a fucking emotional punching bag! 

He’d been honest when he’d told Brian that they would have ended anyway.  Maybe not because of Ethan and Michael.  But because he had been convinced that he meant nothing to him.  But now he knew differently; now he knew that he meant more to Brian than any other person in his life.  He just didn’t know how to feel about that.  Brian had hurt him – he had _let_ Brian hurt him.  He had hidden just how _much_ he had hurt him.  And it had all but destroyed him.  The tricking to punish, Brian’s inability to stand up for him when one of his family or friends was saying shit; Brian’s constant push/pull, and his need to lash out.

The words uttered by Michael, and Ted, and Emmett; words spoken carelessly by Debbie, and Lindsay, and Mel.  Things that had hurt him, yet rather than show that, he had swallowed those things down.  He hadn’t spoken up – he hadn’t called them out on what they had said. He hadn’t told his mother that she had hurt him when she told his father that he was gay.  He hadn’t told Daphne that he felt betrayed by what had happened between them after they had made the mistake of having sex.

More than that, he hadn’t spoken up to his father and told the man that no one could live up to the expectations that he had.  That Justin was human – with human thoughts and feelings.  That if his father couldn’t love him as he was, then he was no longer worthy of having the honor of being called “Dad.”  And he was so fucking done feeling guilty for being a failure in his father’s eyes.  He _wasn’t_ a failure.  He _wasn’t_ weak.  He wasn’t _all_ of the things that people mistakenly saw him as.  He wasn’t a fucking _victim_.          

And as those thoughts were committed to paper, he felt the pressing weight he had carried for so long begin to slide from his shoulders.  By the time he had finished – by the time he had purged the contents of that locked box in his brain – Justin felt a sense of freedom that he hadn’t felt in a long time.  Staring down at the book, he licked his lips briefly before he nodded.  That saying his art professor had been so fond of quoting had never been truer: _The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.*_

No, he couldn’t go back.  And as he ran his fingers lightly over the book on his lap, he knew that he could only go forward.  And maybe, just maybe, the journey that Brian was currently taking would eventually converge with the path he had been dragging himself along.  But as dawn creeped through the windows and the sunrise kissed his face, Justin knew that he was no longer dragging himself.  And while he might still be on his knees, he would one day be standing on his own two feet.

He would continue to talk to Alex, but he would no longer hide behind his walls.  He would be open and honest, and if people didn’t like it, well… too fucking bad.  He was done hiding.  He was done letting people get away with how they had treated him.  He was done being weak.  He was Justin fucking Taylor.  He was in charge of his own life.  Of his own destiny.  And if this one didn’t work?  He would change it.  He would confront his demons, one by one.  Those in his reality, and those in his head. 

Turning his eyes towards the window so that he could watch the sky lighten, Justin smiled slightly.  For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt like he could beat the monster in his head.  He could beat it – move past it – and be happy.  Not just content – not merely satisfied.  But truly, deep-down-in-his-gut happy.  He didn’t need anyone else to fix him – he had to fight that battle himself.  But that didn’t mean he was alone.  He had friends.  He had a family.  Justin shuddered, but let the thought rise and then blossom in his mind.  He had Brian; although he still struggled to give him words, Brian had promised him that he would be there.  That he would try.  And if Brian could do it – so could he. 

*Helen Keller.        


	33. Chapter 33

33.

Staring down at the pile of paperwork in front of him, Brian sighed heavily.  The words on the paper might as well have been written in a foreign language for all the sense they made to him.  Try as he might, he was unable to concentrate; he was unable to focus on his job, not when his mind was filled with what had happened the night before.  Justin had made him a promise – he had promised he would try.  A small smile fluttered across Brian’s face; a promise, that they still had a chance of a future together.  The thought didn’t even make him want to grab his crotch to see if his balls had been traded in for a pussy, considering he had once said that thoughts like these were puke-inducing. 

Giving up on trying to read through his notes, Brian leaned back in his chair and blew out a slow breath.  He, too, had made promises.  And they hadn’t choked him.  They hadn’t caused flash flooding, or plagues of locusts.  And fire and brimstone hadn’t rained down upon him when he had told Justin that he loved him.  Words – he finally understood, irrefutably, why words were so important.  Because if he hadn’t told Justin how he felt, then Justin wouldn’t have peered out from behind his self-imposed walls.  He wouldn’t have made Brian that promise.  And he wouldn’t have had the chance to hold his lover during the night.

God; to see behind the walls that Justin had constructed had nearly broken something inside him.  Justin had finally let him in - had finally let him see just how much pain and suffering had been going on inside that cherished, blond head.  To know that he had blamed himself – to know that Justin had thought that he had been unable to satisfy him when they had lived together… Brian shuddered.  Justin had more than satisfied him – it had been his own guilt and self-loathing that had pushed Brian to trick as heavily as he had done; that, and his inability to trust the depth of Justin’s devotion to him.

And it had only been the tip of the iceberg that Brian had glimpsed behind those walls.  Month upon month of self-imposed loathing had more than tarnished his Sunshine – it had all but permanently snuffed it out.  Brian shuddered again when he thought about how close he had come to losing Justin in a way that made lies and miscommunication seem like nothing more than a rectifiable mistake.  If Justin had succeeded… If he’d left this world, Brian knew deep in his gut that he would have soon followed.  Not in some Romeo-esque, falling-on-his-sword type of way; no, nothing that dramatic.  But he would have simply stopped.  Stopped living.  Stopped being.  Stopped existing. 

He’d begun to think that he’d been failing to make headway with Justin, that he had still been losing him.  No matter how tightly he had tried holding on, it felt like Justin had been slipping through his fingers like smoke.  Justin had been looking at him with blank eyes for so long that he had been convinced he had merely been waiting for Justin to walk away from him once and for all.  But something had changed in Justin while they had been talking – something he said had triggered some sort of pivotal thought in Justin’s mind.  And Brian had seen the glow that Alex had spoken about all those months ago flicker to life behind those wounded eyes.

_“It was ours.”_

Swallowing hard, Brian nodded slightly.  Justin had been right – it had been their fault.  Their fault and their relationship.  He’d been too panicked about letting Justin get closer than he already had been, and Justin had been too scared that when push came to shove, Brian would choose his family and friends over him.  It was up to them to fix it; to put those fears to rest.  He truly was becoming fluent in Justin Taylorisms; their talk had left Justin pale, and the only word that came to mind to describe him was fragile.  It hadn’t taken a lot to coax Justin back onto the couch, where they had made light conversation, agreeing without a word to shelve the heavier subject of what remained of their tattered life together.

And as Brian had watched him, Justin had curled up in a ball on the end of the couch, and had simply gone to sleep.  Eyes shut, cheeks flushed, and lashes forming a curtain over the bruised skin beneath his eyes.  His entire body had ached with the need to curl down behind that slim body, and hold him close; to breath in his natural scent, and ward off any of the monsters that might threaten the sleep that Justin had so obviously needed.  Instead, he had sat on the floor near Justin’s head, and had combed his fingers lightly though his hair; tousling the strands with his fingers before smoothing them back into place as he listened to the quiet little snores that escaped Justin’s slack lips. 

When Daphne had come home, she had taken one look at them and sighed before quietly suggesting to him that he help Justin to bed.  Warm and docile in his arms, Brian had done what Daphne had said and had guided Justin to his room.  It had been in that darkened room that Justin had turned into his sanctuary, that he had finally gotten to alleviate that ache; Justin hadn’t said a word as Brian pulled the covers up over his shoulders, but when Justin reached out and took his hand, Brian had heard the silent plea as clearly as if Justin had shouted it. 

He had eased himself down beside his lover and when he slipped his arm under Justin’s neck, the blond had curled into his arms and let out a sigh that had sounded half-weary, half-mournful.  And in the quietness of the night, with his nose buried in that tousled, blond hair, Brian had felt something inside himself settle when Justin had relaxed in his embrace and tucked his head under Brian’s chin like he had done so many times in the past.  Another drawn-out sigh, and then the familiar weight of Justin’s hand sliding across his waist and onto the center of his back.  Holding on, for the first time in longer than he could remember.

Peace.  He’d forgotten what it felt like; forgotten that he had spent hours in the past watching Justin sleep.  Feeling the heat of his breath against his throat, and the familiar, heavy warmth of Justin’s body slackening when he fell further into sleep.  Brian had only let go of him once during the next hour; he had slipped from the bed and toed his shoes off, before crawling under the covers and guiding Justin back into his arms.  And when Justin had fisted his hand in the material that stretched across his chest, Brian had closed his eyes and slept better than he had in months.

He had woken at two am; Justin had twitched within the circle of his arms, and as he had opened his eyes, Justin had rolled over and pressed back against him.  Back to chest.  Thighs pressed close.  And the curve of those soft ass cheeks pressed up against his groin through the thin material of Justin’s pants.  Brian bit back a groan at the memory.  He had buried his face in Justin’s hair; had skimmed his lips over the sleep-warmed skin at the nape of his neck as Justin had grasped his hand where it had been resting against his stomach and pulled it further around himself.  And the need inside him had slowly risen, along with his cock, as Justin had burrowed further into his arms.  Memories had cascaded through his mind; sounds and images of things long past.  And he’d been helpless against the onslaught.

He’d been helpless to shut away the memory of what Justin’s skin tasted like when he was writhing beneath him, on the verge of orgasm, as sweat beaded across his skin.  What the flush of sex looked like as it slowly mapped its way across that soft, ivory body and mottled his skin pink.  The salty tang of his cock when he sucked it into his mouth, or just how fucking tight Justin’s ass was when he was buried balls-deep in it.  The sounds that Justin was incapable of biting back: whether it be high-pitched gasps or gut-deep moans, or the pure filth that would spill from between kiss-swollen lips as he begged Brian to fuck him harder, deeper, more, more, _more_.

And as those memories tore through his brain, he’d been powerless to stop the slow rock of his hips against Justin’s ass.  Justin had mumbled in his sleep, but he had still pressed back against him; a lazy roll of his hips, and Brian had rocked back against him in answer.  Another rub of his cock against that rounded flesh and he had become so caught up in his memories that he found himself curving his hand inside Justin’s pants and trying to ease them down over his hip before he quite knew what was happening. 

For the space of a few seconds, he had visions of tugging Justin’s pants off and pressing his cock into his tight hole.  Of thrusting, and grunting, and burning away the past in a storm of necessity and passion; of reminding his quixotic lover of everything they had once shared together, and the fact that he would always be the first man who had tasted and touched his body.  But as quickly as that thought filled his head, Brian was edging away from the temptation in his arms and dragging a shaking hand down over his mouth.  He knew Justin wasn’t ready for that - his lover had admitted that sex was the furthest thing from his mind, that he simply wasn’t able to give Brian that kind of relationship. 

Desperate to respect the boundaries that Justin so obviously needed; determined to prove to him that he was serious about wanting this chance, Brian had tucked the blond under the covers and had slipped away into the night.  The twenty-minute drive back to the loft had been a lesson in self-control, but he had barely made it through his front door before he was pulling his jeans down to mid-thigh and jerking his cock in a rough motion that had him dropping to his knees and spilling his cum within a half-dozen strokes.  His orgasm had been painful in its intensity and had confirmed what he already knew: it didn’t matter what trick Brian sought out.  No one would ever bring him to his knees the way Justin did.

Brian couldn’t help the self-depreciating smile that crossed his face.  Alex was right – there were moments when he wondered what the fuck it was he was doing.  He barely recognized the man who looked back at him in the mirror each day.  But then he’d catch sight of the photograph beside his bed, and the image of his lover looking back at him would strengthen his resolve.  He would fix this.  He would continue to work with Alex, and then he would work on getting his lover back where he belonged – in his arms, and in his bed.  And if the little twat thought he’d ever have the chance of leaving him again… well… he had another thing coming.  

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

The soft knock on his door had Brian looking up and a smile crossing his lips when he caught sight of Justin standing in the open doorway with a bagged lunch in his hand.  Beckoning him closer, Brian closed the folder he had been reading as Justin closed the door behind him, and then crossed his office to sink down into one of the chairs that was on the other side of his desk.  Tilting his head slightly, Brian watched as Justin’s gaze jumped from the desk to his face and back again for a minute, before he finally met Brian’s eyes.

“You weren’t there when I woke up.”

There was a strange tone in Justin’s voice, and Brian sucked his lips into his mouth.  The tentative agreement between them was still too new for him to voice what had happened, but he still felt the need to be honest with Justin.  And when the blond tilted his head, Brian nodded.

“I went home,” he said finally.  “I didn’t want to assume that I could stay.”

Justin nibbled on the edge of his lip as he nodded, and Brian leaned back in his chair slightly.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, and Justin lowered his eyes before jerking his shoulder. 

But when Brian murmured his name, Justin squared his shoulders and lifted his eyes.  Resolution shone in his gaze, and he licked his lips briefly before he spoke.

“I, uh… had a bad moment, so I got up, and I wrote it all down.  I rang Alex before I left for work this morning, and I’m going to his office later on this afternoon.”

“Bad dream?” Brian asked tentatively, and Justin shook his head.

“No.  Bad thoughts.  They tend to drown out any reason that I have, and they take over until they are all I can hear,” he said softly. 

“Can I ask what Alex said?” Brian asked as he leaned across the desk slightly and Justin shrugged.

“He said that they are a manifestation of my fears,” he said finally.  “He said until I face those fears, that I will still have… moments, I suppose, where those thoughts try to drag me back down.”  

“And what were the thoughts about?” Brian asked, and Justin blew out an unsteady breath.

“I woke up alone,” he said finally, as he peered down at his hands.  “And I let doubt tell me where you had gone.”

Brian sank back into his chair and briefly closed his eyes.  Now he knew what that tone was; the two times Justin had woken up alone in a hospital, he had been drinking and fucking his pain away.  Even after Justin had come to live with him, memories had pushed Brian out of bed and into the night to find a trick to alleviate his pain.  And that behavior had resulted in Justin’s current thought process.  He no doubt thought he had gone out looking for sex; it was a thought that he couldn’t let linger.  Blowing out a deep breath, Brian leaned forward and braced his arms on the desk.  He waited until Justin met his eyes, before he spoke quietly.

“You slept in my arms for four hours.  And when you rolled over, I woke up.  I was still holding you.  You were warm and pliant… and I wanted nothing more than to tug your pants down, roll you onto your back, and taste every inch of you.  I had to leave, Justin; I know you aren’t ready for that.  I understand… But I had to leave before I forgot that, and I did what my body was demanding and sank inside you.  Otherwise you would have woken up in my arms, and not been left to wonder if I was out there fucking some random trick.”

Justin’s eyes widened, and Brian managed to smile slightly as he shrugged when he saw the truth of his statement play out across Justin’s face.

“And you went home?” Justin asked, and Brian nodded, even as he fought back a smile.  Justin’s voice had risen slightly at the end of his sentence; it reminded him of the wonderment he had once heard in Justin’s voice the afternoon they had shared ice-cream kisses, when he had asked Justin if he wanted to come over after work.

“Yeah…,” he said softly.  “I barely made it through the front door before I was jerking off.”

Color flared across Justin’s cheeks, and Brian shifted in his chair as his cock thickened behind the zipper of his pants.  Staring at his lover, he watched as Justin swallowed hard; his eyes were slightly dilated, and his lips were parted as he stared at Brian mutely.  But then he shifted in his chair, and Brian saw the surprised look that crossed Justin’s face when he glanced down at his own lap.  His eyes flicked back up to meet Brian’s, and the look in them spoke of shocked desire. 

Brian licked his lips as his eyes darted across Justin’s face.  He’d been honest when he said that he knew Justin wasn’t ready to be his lover again.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t remind the blond of what they had once shared.  Taking a deep breath, he rose to his feet and came around the desk.  Justin looked up at him, and while uncertainty played across his face, he still took Brian’s hand and rose to his feet; but his hand did rise to rest in warning against Brian’s chest when he stepped closer to that lovely, slim body.  Resting his face against Justin’s, Brian breathed in as his own hand rose to stroke gently down Justin’s side.  Standing close together, feeling the warmth pressing back against him, Brian spoke quietly.    

“Do you know that you have a single freckle on your taint?  This tiny little brown mark that stands out against the paleness of your skin; I can find it with my eyes closed.  It marks the starting spot on your body.  From that single spot, Justin, I can lick up and suck your cock, or I can lick down and rim you until you lose the ability to speak.”

Brian felt the jerk of Justin’s body against his own, and he curled his hand around Justin’s hip to steady him. Knowing every inch of bone and flesh, Brian stroked his thumb across the curve he could feel beneath the fine woolen trousers that Justin wore.  Damp air brushed his ear with every breath that Justin took; the skin on his cheek where it was pressed against Brian’s own face had heated at Brian’s words, and Brian turned his head slightly and breathed in the scent of shampoo and soap.

“Your cock is a thing of beauty; for a guy your size, it sure as hell shocked the shit out of me the first time that I saw it,” he murmured.

“You’re a size queen.”

Justin’s voice barely stirred the air between them, but Brian still grinned when those soft words reached his ears.

“Yes, I am,” he said bluntly.  “But I also know perfection when I see it.  From your taint, I can suck on your balls – tug on them, and feel them roll in my mouth.  But the real reward is above… thick, and pink, with the slightest curve that hit all the good spots inside when you fucked me.  Thick enough that you take my breath away when I swallow you down, and you lose control and fuck my mouth.”

Brian pressed his lips together and hummed slightly; Justin’s breathing had quickened with each word, and his hand against Brian’s chest had gone from pressing in warning, to fisting the material of Brian’s shirt.

“And when I lick down, I know each and every fold of skin between your cheeks; I know that when I run the flat of my tongue across your hole, your entire body trembles, and breaks out in goosebumps.  And when I push it inside you, you go from trembling to arching up against my mouth.  Trying to get more of my tongue inside your ass… Jesus… the way you react when I’m rimming you… so fucking good… so fucking vocal and open about how good it makes you feel.  I could spend hours rimming you, and still be starving for another taste.”

Turning his head, Brian brushed the tip of his nose across Justin’s temple; his cock was rock hard behind his zipper, and throbbing insistently as he breathed in the tempting scent of sweat that was beginning to bead across Justin’s skin.  He was incapable of stopping himself from flicking the tip of his tongue lightly across the skin beneath his mouth, and his grip on Justin’s hip tightened when Justin’s head thudded against his shoulder.

“But as much as I miss the taste of your ass, there’s something I miss more,” he murmured, and when a soft sound was muffled against his shoulder, Brian smoothed his hands up and down Justin’s sides.

“My ass?”

It was faint, but the slightly bitter tone spoke volumes and it caused Brian to immediately shake his head as his brain scrambled to climb out of the seductive haze it had disappeared into, and out into the place it needed to be where Justin didn’t think that all he was, was a tight hole for Brian to take advantage of.  Baby steps… a reminder… 

“No…”

He whispered it, and Justin slowly lifted his head and looked up at him.  Brushing his thumb over Justin’s bottom lip, Brian smiled wryly.   

“ _This_ is what I miss the most.  Your taste.  The way your mouth fits to mine.  The way you use your whole mouth when kissing… the way I could lose myself inside a kiss with you, and not miss the time… Jesus, I miss that.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his chin came up at a stubborn angle.

“Are you seriously telling me that if you could only chose between my mouth and my ass, that you’d choose my mouth?” he asked, and Brian grinned in relief at the disbelief he heard in Justin’s voice.

“Yep,” he said, and Justin snorted when he saw the humor that danced in his eyes.

“Ok, I’ll bite – why my mouth?” he asked, and when Brian stepped closer to him again, a little squeak escaped his lips as Brian lightly pinched his ribs.

“Because, your mouth is mine,” he murmured.  “You said, you can fuck who you want… but you can’t kiss anyone but me on the mouth.  I hold you to that.”

“I kissed Tommy,” Justin said quietly, and Brian reached out to brush his thumb over that plump bottom lip again.

“I know.  I saw,” he said finally.  “You made sure his first kiss was everything he’d hoped for.”

Justin looked startled for a minute, before he shrugged as he lowered his eyes.

“I told him that the first kiss you ever give is a gift and it should be treated as such,” he said softly, and then shook his head as a wry smile curved his lips.

Brian wanted to wince as he remembered the thought process he had had when he’d seen the kiss Justin had shared with Tommy.  He hadn’t treated Justin’s first kiss as a gift; not the first kiss, or the fact that it had been the first time he had even been with a man.  Oh, he’d been careful with that pale body; he’d been as gentle as he could the first time; he’d taken care when he had eased tongue, fingers, and then cock into the virgin tight passage.  He hadn’t realized just how precious the gift Justin had given him that night had been. 

But now he did - he’d known since Chris Hobbs had tried taking Justin away from him.  Had known since he had watched his lover walk away from him with another man.  Now he just had to figure out how to show Justin that if he came back to him, that he wouldn’t take that gift for granted.  Not now.  Not ever again.  Easing back from Justin, from the temptation of his lips, Brian gave him a crooked smile, and then gestured towards the door.

“Come on; you need to eat,” he said, and when a small crease appeared between Justin’s eyes, Brian guided him forward with a hand to the small of his back.  “If that’s a P&J sandwich in that bag, Sunshine, you are doing yourself a serious disservice.” 

He paused briefly, and then licking his lips, he spoke quietly.

“What time are you going to be finished with Alex?” he asked, and Justin shrugged.

“My appointment is at four thirty,” he said as he lifted his hand to chew on his thumb nail.  “Why?”

Tugging his hand away from his mouth, Brian guided it towards his own mouth and pressed a light kiss to the damp tip.

“Can I take you out for dinner?” he asked, and Justin blew out a shaky breath as his eyes darted back and forth between his thumb where it rested against Brian’s lips, and his eyes.  And when he finally nodded, Brian smiled and released his hand.

“Go to lunch, Sunshine,” he said quietly.  “I’ll pick you up at five thirty.”

Justin stepped out of his office, and Brian leaned against the doorway for a minute as he watched the blond walk down the corridor towards the staff room.  And when Justin glanced back him with a quizzical look on his face, Brian smiled and gestured him on.  It was only after Justin turned the corner that Brian headed back to his desk.  Picking up the phone, he shook his head as he felt a small smile curve his mouth; he had a date to organize.


End file.
